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NEARING THE DOCK AT LIVERPOOL. 




























































WE TWO 


ALONE IN EUROPE. 


ef ■; A 

By MARY L. NINDE. 


WITH ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 


EIGHTH EDITION. 

) J * 

) > 


CHICAGO: 

A. C. McCLURG & COMPANY. 
1897. 





Copyright 

By JANSEN, McCLURG, & CO., 
1885. 


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/ / & n 

£ T //Jf 4 v' 

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On/ 


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THE DEAR COMPANION OF TWO YEARS OF HAPPY DAYS 


This little hook is dedicated. 






CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. At Sea, and How We Came There _ 7 

II. Rural England and Smoky London 11 

III. A Day in Parliament 23 

IV. An English Home _ _ . _ 29 

V. A Spray of Scottish Heather _ 37 

VI. Erin Mayourneen . _ _ .46 

VII. Sights and Sounds in Berlin . 55 

VIII. A German Christmas _ _ .62 

IX. Nuremberg the Ancient 70 

X. Rome 78 

XI. Naples and Vesuvius ... 96 

XII. Summer in the Icy North ... 103 

XIII. Day without Night _ . _ 118 

XIV. The North Cape’s Windy Wedge _ 130 

XV. A Night at a Norwegian Softer . 141 

XVI. In Baltic Waters . . . .161 

XVII. The City of the Great Czar . 169 

XVIII. Holy Moscow . . . . .183 

XIX. Paris in Winter .... 201 

XX. Off to the Orient . . . .213 

XXI. Cairo and the Pyramids . . 219 

XXII. Afloat on the Nile .... 233 
XXIII. The Heart of Egypt ... 242 



VI 


ILLZJSTRA TIONS. 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XXIV. The Tombs of the Pharaohs . . 252 

XXV. A Turkish Wedding _ _ . 264 

XXVI. Our First Week in Palestine _ _ 272 

XXVII. Tenting in the Holy Land _ . 279 

XXVIII. Gennesaret _ 290 

XXIX. “ The Eye of the East ” 299 

XXX. The Golden Horn . 308 

XXXI. “ Violet-Wreathed ” Athens . 328 

XXXII. Paris under Summer Skies . _ 337 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Nearing the Dock at Liverpool . Frontispiece 
The Irish Jaunting-Car . . _ _ .52 

The Market-Place at Nuremberg 75 

In a Noravegian Fiord. 128 

Baltic Waters _ _ . . . .164 

Russian Church and Worshippers _ . .178 

An Ejected Passenger . . _ .215 

Mourners by the Nile ..... 238 

At the Catacombs of Egypt ... 259 

Breaking Camp ...... 280 

Cavalcade in a Storm .... 293 



WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


CHAPTER I. 

AT SEA, AND HOW WE CAME THERE. 

APT AIN KENNED AY was making liis last trip 



on the u City of Berlin”; L. and I, our first. 
The question was settled: we were going to Europe, 
for a year—and alone! Two girls — not the oldest 
nor the wisest, but very joyous, standing together 
by the ship’s side, gave each other’s hand an ec¬ 
static little squeeze, and dreamed of the happy days 
to come. 

All the previous winter, we had talked Europe; 
but one seemingly insurmountable obstacle had 
threatened our plans: we had no company. For 
on one point L. and I were agreed: we would not 
be trammelled by a large party, nor limited to a 
summer trip of three months. Our families were 
not going; so what could be done? At last the 
cloud lifted. A call came for pater-familias to 
spend several weeks in London; and our plans were 


7 



8 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


soon laid. We would accompany him there, get a 
foretaste of the Old World, then shoulder our knap¬ 
sacks and set forth alone. 

When the secret got abroad, what a storm burst 
upon us! Wise ones plead with us, urging the 
perils of such an undertaking, with our youth and 
inexperience; but seeing us still resolute, they 
smiled incredulously, as if to say, “Very well; try 
it if you will, but—” and the ominous blank was 
more expressive than words. 

Our plan was to creep cautiously from point to 
point, arrange to meet friends wherever we could, 
and return home at the end of twelve months, like 
obedient children. So, trusting in the old adage, 
‘‘Nothing venture, nothing gain,” we packed our 
trunks, bade adieu to our friends, and, early in 
August, set sail. 

The sun rose bright and warm on the morning of 
our departure. At the appointed hour the warning 
bell rang. There were hurried good-byes, the gang¬ 
way was drawn in, the cables loosened, and our 
gallant ship steamed slowly down the bay. All 
was so new and strange, we half distrusted our 
identity, and vaguely wondered if it could all be 
true, and our fondest dreams were to be realized. 

As our native land slowly receded from sight, 
we fully expected to feel some slight thrills of 
that patriotic emotion of which the poets sing. 


AT SEA, AND HOW WE CAME THERE. 


9 


But, alas! our most agonizing efforts failed to pro¬ 
duce a single sentimental feeling; and, instead, our 
chief concern was to determine the exact point 
where we should first experience that stern reality 
— the ocean swell. 

Our reverie was broken by the loud clanging of 
the dinner-bell. We descended to the saloon, won¬ 
dering if we should be the only ones there, but 
found we had been preceded by an eager crowd of 
liungry-looking people who seemed to have taken for 
their motto, “ Let us eat and drink to-day, for to¬ 
morrow we cannot.” Our distracted steward spent 
most of his time in uncorking bottles for a row of 
weak-eyed young men across the table. 

‘‘Never mind,” whispered L., “half the people 
will be sick to-morrow, and then we’ll have some¬ 
thing to eat.” 

Alas for the prophecy! The two or three days 
that followed were little more than a blank. When 
occasionally we crawled on deck for a sniff of fresh 
air, such looks of intense misery greeted us on all 
sides that we were glad to return to our state-rooms. 

Life at sea is a lazy one. We sat for hours idly 
watching the water, chatted, wrote a little, ate often, 
and slept much. In the evening we had music or 
games, varied with services conducted by the “sky- 
pilots,” as the sailors aptly termed our clerical pas¬ 
sengers. 


10 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


Seven nights the sun set in the sea, and then 
came our last Sabbath on shipboard. The bell 
rang, and we assembled in the cabin to join in the 
English service, that never seemed more beautiful 
and impressive. 

At two p.m. there was the cry of “ Land ! ” Ea¬ 
gerly following the lookout’s direction with our 
glasses, we faintly discerned against the horizon one 
of the Skillig rocks. Again we looked, and the 
hazy coast-hue of the Emerald Isle appeared in 
view. Soon began the bustle of packing. Shawl- 
straps and trunks again appeared on deck. Steamer- 
rugs and hoods were exchanged for hats and ulsters. 
People were so transformed, we almost needed to 
be introduced over again. Even the most sea-sick 
emerged from the depths, and greeted us with 
beaming faces. 

By evening, the twinkling lights of Queenstown 
gleamed out in the distance; and the following after¬ 
noon we were steaming up the Mersey in a drizzling 
rain. Presently Liverpool, with its granite docks 
and huge warehouses, appeared in sight. Vessels 
from every clime passed and re-passed us. Long 
rows of draggled spectators eyed us curiously as 
we neared the wharf. Half bewildered by the noise 
and confusion, we gathered up our baggage, mounted 
the slippery gangway, and began our new life in the 
Old World. 


CHAPTER II. 


RURAL ENGLAND AND SMOKY LONDON. 

”TT7‘E spent one night in Liverpool, experienced 
’ * the delights and miseries of our first European 
table d'hote, peered from under our dripping umbrel¬ 
las at the crowded streets and gaily decorated shop 
windows, and the next morning were off to London. 

At Birmingham we had agreed to stop over a 
day and visit some English friends. We reached 
there in a pouring rain — a perfect deluge. But 
true to his word, Mr. H. met us at the station, and 
gave us a warm welcome. 

“Here is my closed carriage; get right in, and 
we will drive home as quickly as possible,” were 
the first words we expected to hear him say after 
greeting us. But what was^ our amazement when 
he remarked, as if it were the most natural thing 
in the world: 

“We will now walk out and see the city.” 

Two hours later, we were driven to his pleasant 

country home, seven miles out of Birmingham. A 

charming picture it gave us of rural England. The 

rain was over, and the air was fragrant with the 

dewy odor of wild honeysuckle and “ meadow- 

n 


12 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


sweet.” The fine old roads wound their way amid 
rows of English oaks, hemmed in by hawthorn 
hedges and banks of the purple foxglove. Red- 
walled farm-houses, quite overgrown with ivy, stood 
•comfortably back in the meadows; and in their 
midst was the ancient parish church in its little 
inclosure of grassy mounds. 

What a change from this scene of rustic beauty 
to the heart of smoky London! We scrambled 
out upon the platform, bag and baggage,— only leav¬ 
ing an umbrella behind in the general excitement. 
The first thing we did was to set out in search of 
a boarding-place. We took all our addresses in 
turn, and during that one forenoon climbed more 
stairs and saw the inside of more London houses 
than we should have done in six weeks under ordi¬ 
nary circumstances. The landlady was always very 
pleasant, and wore a morning cap of white muslin 
or silk bound around with some pretty ribbon. 

We finally decided on a home-like hotel in 
Southampton Row, under the shadow of the British 
Museum. The proprietor’s household consisted of 
himself, his wife, and three blooming daughters. 
The youngest was especially bright and pretty, a 
typical English girl, with rosy cheeks, and sensible 
independent ways. Just before we came, she had 
taken, in company with a young friend, a pleasure 
tramp of two weeks through Yorkshire. Together 


RURAL ENGLAND AND SMOKY LONDON. 13 


they had walked over the smooth country roads 
from morning till night, travelling never less than 
twenty miles a day, and stopping at night in farm¬ 
houses, or wherever they could find lodgings. It 
was rare fun, she told us, and often enjoyed by 
English girls. 

Most of the boarders were English people, and 
very kind and sociable. But sometimes their re¬ 
marks betrayed an ignorance of America that sur¬ 
prised us. One young girl wanted to know what 
language we speak in our country. 

“Why, English, of course.” 
u Oh, I thought you spoke Indian.” 

“How did you think our American books came 
to be printed in English, then ? ” 

“I thought they were translated.” 

Shopping in London is a tedious process. One 
morning we started down town to make a few little 
purchases, expecting to be through in an hour ; but, 
to our surprise, it took us all the morning. Many 
of the shops were dark and gloomy, and instead of 
the tempting displays of ribbons and laces we were 
accustomed to see on our counters at home, there 
were only bare shelves, while the goods were hidden 
away in drawers and boxes. The slow plodding 
fashion of doing things made us long for some of our 
American briskness. The clerk would bring out a 
very few goods at a time, and if we wished to look at 



14 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


something more or less expensive, or of a different 
quality, the first articles had all to be carefully 
wrapped up and put in their places before any others 
were taken down. I did not see a single cash-boy. 
In one place where we bought a few yards of lace, 
the clerk handed his cash-book to an usher, who 
examined it to be sure that no mistake had been 
made ; and when it was returned, he carried it in 
person to the desk for change. 

The currency was especially a puzzle to us—not 
so much to compute, as to understand what the clerk 
was saying when he rattled off the shillings, pence, 
and ha’pennies, with his inimitable English accent. 
We did not enter a shop, no matter how crowded, 
wliere we were not offered a seat, and urged to take 
it, as if it would be impolite to refuse. 

But it was pleasant to turn from the shops of 
London to places of greater interest. The British 
Museum, with its noble facade and Grecian statuary, 
was like a bit of Athens itself transported to Lon¬ 
don. Inside, we were bewildered by its treasures, 
and delighted with the perfect arrangement which 
makes it so easy to enjoy them. 

Passing by the Elgin marbles, where we were 
always tempted to linger, we entered the grand 
Egyptian Hall. Colossal statues of gods and men in 
the old Syenite granite, slabs, sarcophagi, painted 
wooden coffins still inclosing their mummies, beads, 


RURAL ENGLAND AND SMOKY LONDON. 15 


cliarras, images, and papyrus rolls, lined the walls 
and filled the cases. At one end of the apartment, 
on its pedestal, rests the famous Kosetta stone. It 
was the sesame that uidocked the mystery; for until 
its discovery, the millions of hieroglyphics covering 
the tombs, monuments, and rolls of papyrus, re¬ 
mained a sealed book. The stone is of black basalt, 
with inscriptions on its surface in three languages, 
one in Greek, one in the form of hieroglyphics 
understood by the common people, and one in that 
used by the priests. By comparison and agreement, 
the hieroglyphics were at last deciphered and the 
mysteries of thousands of years unravelled. 

Not less interesting was the wonderful Ninevite 
collection. Lining the walls of the long corridors 
were sculptures taken from the temples and palaces 
in the East. We never tired of studying them, 
for here, without looking between the covers of a 
history, we could read the whole story of the Asi¬ 
atics. On this wall a phalanx of armed men are 
marching to battle. We see their black beards and 
long crimped hair, their style of dress, their chariots 
and weapons. Now the victorious ones are murder¬ 
ing their captives or chaining them together and 
leading them home in triumph to their walled city. 
A little farther on, we come to a great river. Long 
waved lines represent the water, where strange 
fishes are swimming about and boats are sailing to 


16 


WE TWO ALONE IN E rj ROPE. 


and fro. Again, the Hinevites are pictured in their 
homes — drawing water, mixing and kneading and 
baking bread, playing games, or sleeping on couches 
in the midst of their flower-gardens. Here a myr¬ 
iad of workmen are building a tower, and we note 
their masonry, implements, and methods of con¬ 
struction. The cases in the main hall contain quan¬ 
tities of jewels, toilet articles, and other curiosities 
found in the tombs and palaces, besides many larger 
objects, such as urns, sacrificial ovens, and the bra¬ 
zen doors from Shalmanezer’s palace. 

In the Grenville Library, adjoining the Egyptian 
Hall, we saw one of the oldest known copies of the 
Bible — the Codex Alexandrians — with its colored 
lettering and leaves of fine parchment; a sample of 
the “ Indulgences ” granted by Pope Leo X., and the 
Magna Charta of King John. Here are also pre¬ 
served autograph letters of many of the greatest 
celebrities of England; a dainty little note in the 
fine handwriting of Lady Jane Grey, whose sad his¬ 
tory always touched a tender chord in our hearts, a 
sheet in the bolder hand of Cromwell, and treasured 
pages, some of them blurred and yellow with age, 
from the pens of Shakespere, More, Milton, and a 
long line of illustrious men and women. 

It seemed a natural thing to turn from these let¬ 
ters, bright with memories of the past, to the grim 
old Tower on the Thames, where so many of the 


RURAL ENGLAND AND SMOKY LONDON. 17 

writers suffered and died. The massive stone walls 
rise gloomily above the yellow waters of the river, 
and each tower crowning the battlements has its own 
dark story to tell. In White Tower is the step 
in the winding stone staircase under which were 
thrown the bodies of the murdered princes. In 
Brick Tower the youthful Lady Jane Grey lan¬ 
guished before her execution, and in Beauchamp 
Tower Lord Dudley left a lasting memorial of her in 
the name “Jane” scratched in rude letters on the 
wall with his own hand. From the grated window 
of his cell in Bell Tower, Sir Thomas More often 
looked down upon the scaffold in the court, won¬ 
dering when his own turn would come. Here came 
his loving daughter, “Meg,” to cheer him in his 
solitude and weep at the cruel fate awaiting him. 
Both he and Lady Jane are buried in the little 
church in the court, only a few steps from the place 
of the scaffold; and near them lies Anne Boleyn. 
The soldiers of the garrison worship in the church 
now. 

A flight of stone steps leads to the dungeons 
under White Tower. Formerly they were reached 
only by a narrow inner staircase that admitted neither 
light nor air. In the torture-room the marks still 
show in the floor where the rack stood. A passage¬ 
way leads to a second dungeon, where six hundred 
Jews were confined under Edward I. In the passage- 


18 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


way itself is a cell called u Little Ease,” because it 
was too narrow to allow the prisoner to lie down. 

On the side of the Tower bordering the river is 
a row of cells, reaching just above the water mark, 
where victims were put to death by drowning and 
strangling. On the same side, a flight of steps 
leads under Traitor’s Gate to the river brink; and it 
is here that state prisoners brought to the Tower by 
boat were landed. It is said that when Queen Bess, 
in her youthful days, was led a prisoner to the steps, 
she refused to go further, declaring she was no 
traitor. Yet years later, she herself sent the un¬ 
fortunate Earl of Arundel to his cell in the Tower, 
because of his Catholic faith. Fourteen years he 
was kept a prisoner there, and wrote on the wall of 
his little room the words—“The more suffering 
for Christ in this world, the more glory with Christ 
in the next.” 

The Tower has many times been shaken by in¬ 
ternal convulsions, but never attacked by a foreign 
enemy. Behind its strong walls, William the 
Conqueror defended himself when his unpopular 
rule made it dangerous for him to mingle with the 
people. Yet, long before his day it is supposed the 
Romans had their mint here, from the remains of 
an old Roman wall and gold coins discovered in the 
earth. 

It seems strange that such a gloomy place should 


RURAL ENGLAND AND SMOKY LONDON. 19 


have been a royal residence. After the reign of 
Elizabeth it was abandoned for that purpose, and 
only used as a prison. Now its dark days are over, 
and the little children of the guardians play about 
the spot where the scaffold stood. The dungeons 
are deserted, and their instruments of torture exhib¬ 
ited as curiosities. The empty chambers serve as 
the armory, and the only treasures the old Tower 
guards are the crown jewels of England. 

We admired St. Paul’s for its noble architecture, 
its historic memories, its honored dead, and its elo¬ 
quent Canon Liddon; but we loved Westminster. 
The Abbey was our Mecca — the spot of all others 
toward which our hearts turned in London. When 
we first saw its dark stained walls rising before us 
like some worn veteran, our hearts were thrilled; 
but when we entered the doorway and stood in the 
solemn hush of the great sanctuary itself, we felt 
like repeating the doxology— so impressive, so sacred 
seemed the place. 

We visited it again on Sunday. Canon Duck¬ 
worth preached in the afternoon. The spacious choir 
was filled. How beautiful this service in the Abbey! 
Even the echoing footfalls of the people, as they 
walked over the stone floor, thrilled us with awe. 
Beneath us lay the dust of the dead. Around us were 
their monuments — the marble soft and yellow, and 
the marble grown black with the mould of centuries. 


20 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


There lay warriors, philanthropists, cardinals, in cold 
gray stone, their hands clasped peacefully on their 
breasts and their faces turned heavenward. 

High before us the dark walls rose to the vaulted 
ceiling, and through one of the western windows a 
few long beams of sunlight fell on the tombs below. 
Suddenly, in the silence, the organ burst forth, its 
rich tones swelling and reechoing through the aisles 
and chapels, till it seemed as if the dead must 
wake at the sound. Then the audience rose, and 
thousands of voices joined in the song, of all others 
most fitting in the Abbey: 

“ Change and decay in all around I see, 

O Thou who changest not, abide with me.” 

We visited Westminster again and again — run¬ 
ning in for a quiet half-hour, not so much to see as 
to dream. We loved best to wander, silent and alone, 
up and down the quiet aisles, without guide or guide¬ 
book, living in the past till it seemed a reality. We 
wanted no one to tell us the names on the tombs. 
We loved best to read them ourselves; it was so 
pleasant to be surprised — to find ourselves suddenly 
in the poets’ corner, where Shakespere, life-size, and 
scroll in hand, was bending forward as if to greet us, 
or to see under our very feet the tomb of the heroic 
Livingstone, inscribed with his own last beautiful 
words: “All I can add in my solitude is — may 
heaven's rich blessing come down on every one, 


RURAL ENGLAND AND SMOKY LONDON 21 


American, English, or Turk, who will help to heal 
this open sore of the world.” 

The royal tombs are in the choir chapels. In the 
chapel of Henry VII. lies the unfortunate Mary 
Queen of Scots, and in a corresponding aisle on the 
opposite side of the chapel reposes her bitter enemy 
Elizabeth. Both have life-size effigies, with folded 
hands and upturned faces, resting on canopied 
couches of stone, elaborately carved. 

In the chapel of Edward the Confessor is the old 
coronation chair in which all the royal heads of Eng¬ 
land have been crowned since the twelfth century. 
Many a brilliant procession has swept up these sto¬ 
ried aisles. Hither came the conquering William of 
Normandy; the beautiful but heartless Anne Boleyn; 
and, last of the line, the youthful Victoria. We saw 
the Chapter House of the old Abbey, where the 
House of Commons sat in the olden times; and we 
wandered over the well-worn pavement of the 
cloisters. 

Westminster is gradually falling to decay. Por¬ 
tions of the old wall here and there are giving way 
in turn, so that the restorer’s hammer is heard 
throughout the year somewhere on the building. 
For long centuries the Abbey has stood through 
sunshine and storm, and thousands of illustrious 
dead have been buried within its walls. There 
their monuments may be seen to-day—from the 


22 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


ancient hero on his couch of blackened marble, to 
the freshly-carved tomb of Dean Stanley in the 
chapel of Henry VII., covered with garlands of 
• faded flowers. 


CHAPTER III. 


A DAY IN PARLIAMENT. 


T was not strange that L. and I should desire 



to attend a session of the House of Lords. But 
the great question was how to do it. A friend 
applied, in our behalf, to the American legation; 
but in vain. There was no hope till the 26 th, 
and Parliament would be prorogued before then. 

But we persisted. Give up ? Ho, indeed! We 
would ourselves see Mr. Lowell; for surely he 
could not have the heart to refuse two American 
girls. So, carefully attired, we hailed a “hansom,” 
and were soon dashing down Whitehall. 

A few moments more, and we drew up before 
a handsome stone building. A dignified porter 
assisted us out; we mounted the stairs, and with 
palpitating hearts, but undaunted resolution, stood 
before the glass door on which was inscribed in 
large letters — “u. s. legation.” 

The polite usher, in reply to our request to see 
Mr. Lowell, directed us to a reception room. Soon 
returning, he bade us follow him. Passing through 
several offices, lined with well-filled book-cases, we 
found ourselves, alone and half-bewildered, in the 


24 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


presence of the American Minister. A fine phy¬ 
sique, kindly face, heavy hair plentifully sprinkled 
with gray, and a pair of keen eyes fixed curiously 
upon us;—these things unconsciously impressed 
us, while, in as straightforward a manner as was 
possible, we made known our errand. 

The reply came without hesitation: “I can do 
nothing for you ; there are only sixteen seats in the 
ladies’ gallery, and among the many desiring admit¬ 
tance these are soon taken. But — are you — two 
girls — alone in London?” 

u Oh, no, we have friends.” 

Seeing nothing could be effected here, we regis¬ 
tered our names in the visitors’ book, and descended 
to the street, where we held a hurried consul¬ 
tation. 

There was Sir William Knollys, Usher of the Black 
Bod, who had special charge of the ladies’ gallery. 
Should we apply to him ? No stone should be left 
unturned; and resolutely we wended our way to 
the Parliament Houses. 

Entering the spacious court-yard, we inquired of 
Constable No. 1, the way to the honorable gentle¬ 
man’s private office. 

Constable No. 7: “ Do you mean his kitchen 
or office door ? ” 

With great dignity: “ His office door.” 

“ Can we see Sir William Knollys ? ” we asked of 


A DAY IN PARLIAMENT. 


25 


the porter who answered our ring. A secretary 
stepped forward. 

u Do you wish an order ? ” 

“Very much. We are American girls — have 
heard and read of these great men, and are anxious 
to see them.” 

Smiling, he disappeared from the room, but re¬ 
turned in a few minutes with a permit for two 
ladies at 5 p.m. to the House of Lords, signed u Sir 
Wm. Knollys.” Eagerly seizing the precious docu¬ 
ment, we expressed our thanks and hastened home. 

The appointed hour found us in the noble corri¬ 
dor leading to the Peers’ entrance. Glitter and 
ceremony greeted us on every side, as we passed 
into the House of Lords. Through the beautiful 
stained-glass windows, representing kings and queens 
in royal attire, the light fell softly on the Lord 
Chancellor seated on the “wool-sack,” and two 
secretaries, who, with their powdered wigs and long 
black robes, looked strange enough to our unac¬ 
customed eyes. 

“ The one on the right is Ralph Disraeli; not so 
smart as his brother by ’alf,” whispered our com¬ 
municative usher. 

The other lords, some with their hats on, sat in 
ordinary dress on the red morocco benches, which 
were arranged in tiers. The throne in front is for 
the Queen’s use, on those rare state occasions when 


26 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


royalty is present; and the chairs on either side are 
for the Prince and Princess of Wales. 

The business of the House was unimportant and 
the session short. After a motion for adjournment 
by Earl Granville, the mace-bearer raised the mace 
— a heavy gold rod, surmounted by a crown — and 
moved slowly forward, followed by the purse-bearer. 
The purse was a handsome embroidered bag con¬ 
taining the keys of the treasury. The Lord Chan¬ 
cellor, in his wig and flowing robe, completed the 
procession ; and all three, sweeping by us, disap¬ 
peared through a side-passage. 

Sir William Knollys’ secretary now came up and 
asked if we would like to look over the building. 
Of course we would. So, following our guide along 
a broad corridor, we passed straight through the 
Lords’ private room, where several of the peers were 
conversing familiarly together, and into the great 
hall just under Victoria tower, through which the 
Queen enters the House of Lords. 

There were immense paintings on the wall, repre¬ 
senting the Death of Helson and the Battle of 
Waterloo. As one of the peers approached us, it 
was amusing to see the almost reverential way in 
which our attendant bowed to his lordship. 

The secretary told us we could visit the House of 
Commons by obtaining a permit from the Speaker. 
We had been told it was much more difficult to gain 


A DAY IN PARLIAMENT. 


27 


access to the Commons’ than to the Peers’ chamber, 
and had scarcely hoped to be successful; but since 
a way had been suggested, we determined to make 
the attempt. 

On each side of the corridors leading to the 
House were long lines of people waiting their turn 
to enter. Marching boldly by them to the police¬ 
man guarding the entrance, we asked to see the 
Speaker. Taking us, no doubt, for first cousins of 
that honored dignitary, he directed us through 
several passages to his private office, where sat 
the secretary, in silk stockings and silver shoe- 
buckles, looking as if he had just stepped out of a 
portrait. We made known our wishes. The secre¬ 
tary was afraid he could do nothing for us, as we 
were ladies ; but if we would wait a moment, he 
would see. Soon he returned. The Speaker had 
said he might conduct us to his private gallery. 

Could the fates have been more propitious ! The 
hall where the Commons sit is not ornate, like the 
House of Lords, but more of the members were pres¬ 
ent, and the interest was much greater. Just below 
us, in a semi-circle, were the reporters, busy with pen 
and paper. Opposite was the gentlemen’s gallery, 
and conspicuous among the visitors were two intelli¬ 
gent looking Mongolians, in their native costume. 

Suddenly there was a rustling near us, and in 
swept Mrs. Brand, the Speaker’s wife' in a long 


28 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


silk dress and flashing diamonds, taking her seat a 
few feet from us. She had such a pleasant face, we 
ventured to ask if Mr. Gladstone was present. 

“ He is not, and probably will not come in before 
midnight ; but that gentleman on the seat yonder, 
with the dark hair, is Mr. Parnell.” 

“Do the Liberals sit on the opposite side? ” 

“ Yes, on the right of the Speaker, and the Con¬ 
servatives and Irish Home Rulers on the left, divided 
by the aisle.” 

We glanced at the empty benches of the Conserv¬ 
atives, with only three or four members scattered 
here and there, and asked, in surprise: 

“Are not the Conservatives usually better repre¬ 
sented? ” 

“Oh, yes, indeed; but the Irish members are so 
tiresome, nobody stays to hear them.” 

The question concerned the salaries of certain 
officials connected with the Irish administration. 
The speeches, especially from the Irish side of the 
House, were hot and sarcastic. Evidently Mr. For¬ 
ster had too much to do with the coercion bill, to 
be a favorite with the irreconcilables. 

At last, our curiosity satisfied, we wended our way 
down the broad stairways, past the waiting carriages 
in the courtyard, to join our eager friends outside. 
Our day in Parliament was ended. 


CHAPTEE IV. 


AN ENGLISH HOME. 

/^ANE morning a charming surprise came to us in 
the shape of an invitation to visit Lady L., in 
Highbury Grove. Highbury is an old, aristocratic 
street, unpretentious in appearance, but occupied by 
the best families. It lies beyond the din and smoke 
of the city, and on a level with the ball crowning the 
dome of St. Paul’s; so that the sun will often be seen 
shining bright and clear there, when it is very foggy 
“down-town.'' The houses are of the true London 
type, plain and dingy, without lawns in front, and 
with high iron fences, shutting them out from the 
street. In its exterior, Lady L.’s home is an excep¬ 
tion. The walls are a beautiful cream-color, and, 
with the bright flower-boxes in the windows, the 
effect was most pleasing. 

We arrived after dark. Mrs. A., an old family 
friend and a guest in the house, met us in the hall, 
and led the way up-stairs. Our room was large and 
cheerful, with a wide fireplace, a brass bedstead 
whose knobs glistened like gold, rugs, mirrors, and 

easy-chairs. Wax candles were burning on the man- 

29 


30 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE . 


tel in place of gas, as the English prefer their softer 
light in the bedrooms. 

Just as we were starting down-stairs with some 
trepidation, our hostess met us. She was our ideal 
of an English lady — tall and graceful, with kind 
brown eyes, brown hair slightly tinged with gray 
combed smoothly back under her widow’s cap, a low 
musical voice, and captivating smile. She greeted 
us warmly, taking our hands in both of hers, and 
saying: 

u My dear children, it gives me great pleasure to 
welcome you to my home.” 

Descending to the drawing-room, we found a 
handsome apartment tilled with a pleasant odor of 
burning incense, and softened by the light from the 
wax candles that shed a mellow glow over the rich 
furnishings. The furniture was gilt, covered with 
blue satin. Heavy satin curtains draped the win¬ 
dows, and portieres fell from the frescoed ceiling to 
the floor. The walls were not adorned with pictures, 
but decorated with mouldings, gilding, and elegant 
mirrors; while Dresden vases, statuary, and costly 
bric-a-brac , were scattered about the room. 

At ten o’clock the bell was rung for prayers, and 
we all went to the dining-room — an apartment that, 
with its rich mahogany furniture and walls covered 
with rare and beautiful paintings, reminded us of 
the one at Windsor Castle, on a smaller scale. In an 


AN ENGLISH HOME. 


31 


alcove stood the carved sideboard, and on one end 
of the table two candles were burning in tall silver 
candlesticks — our only light. 

The house-servants came tiling in and took their 
seats. The maids were dressed in black, with black 
ribbon bound around their white caps; and the men 
wore a crape band on their sleeve — tokens of 
respect for Sir Francis L., who had died a short 
time before. Near the fireplace stood a small 
stand with the family Bible resting on a crimson 
cushion. There Lady L. took her seat, and, open¬ 
ing to the black book-mark, herself conducted 
worship as she had done since the death of her 
husband. 

After breakfast the next morning, we went into 
the summer parlor, at the rear of the hall, and open¬ 
ing into the drawing-room by folding glass-doors. 
It was a fairy-like arbor. The tesselated floor was 
covered with soft rugs. Flowering-plants, arranged 
in the most artistic manner, filled every nook and 
corner. The ceiling was a dense growth of vines, 
from which hung luscious bunches of grapes, with 
gayly-colored glass balls and silver candlesticks sus¬ 
pended among them. At one end of the room was 
a fernery; while easy-chairs, dainty little footstools, 
and tables, were set invitingly around. 

The summer parlor opened on the garden. Lit¬ 
tle rustic houses were discovered in all sorts of 


32 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


unexpected places, where Lady L. said she often, 
took her lunch in warm weather. The bright 
flowers, fruit, green lawn, glossy-leaved holly- 
bushes, and old English ivy, creeping over the 
high brick walls that shut in all this beauty from 
the outside world, made it a charming retreat. 

Like all English ladies in high life, Lady L. had 
her pet lap-dog; and Tasso, nicknamed “Tus,” was 
a favored member of his tribe. His curly coat was 
scrubbed every day till it looked like wool. He 
had his own special bone kept on a china plate in 
the library, ready for use when his dogship re¬ 
quired. He went with us to the dining-room, and 
received bits from the table. If the butler failed 
to wait upon him, Lady L. at once reprimanded 
him for lack of attention to her “poor pet.” But 
“poor pet” had a way of getting under the table, 
and, when we least expected it, snapping at our 
feet in a way to make us lose all sense of decorum. 
One day, when a grave barrister, of portly dimen¬ 
sions, was with us at dinner, “Tus” went his usual 
rounds under the table, and at a solemn turn in the 
conversation suddenly pounced upon the toes of the 
unsuspecting barrister. Back went his chair, and 
up flew his arms, with a half-suppressed shriek. 
We could not quite keep from laughing; but Lady 
L. looked up with dignified surprise, and made no 
comment. 


AN ENGLISH HOME. 


oq 

oO 


Our hostess gave a lunch-party one day during 
our visit. The hour was two. About twenty were 
present, among them several noted Americans. 
There was a profusion of flowers upon the table, 
and the tall centre-piece bore on its very summit, 
waving in all its glory, a stalk of green corn ! This 
plant never fully ripens in England, and this speci¬ 
men from the green-house was regarded as a great 
treasure. 

One morning Lady L. invited us to be ready for 

a drive at eleven. Her ladyship, who was the soul 

of promptness, came down at the hour appointed, 

dressed entirely in crape, and took her place on the 

right-hand side of the back seat; L. and I were 

allowed in turn to occupy the place of honor beside 

her. Once she said: “I would change seats and let 

you both sit on this side, for you could see better; but 

it would not be etiquette for me to leave my usual 

place.” We drove through the most select quarter of 

London — Grosvenor Place, Hyde Park and vicinity. 

Almost every house belonged to some duke or earl. 

Lady L. said : “ These places are stiff with elegance, 

but it is considered by many an unhealthy part of 

the city, as so many were buried here during the 

plague.” Afterwards we drove along the Thames 

embankment and down Whitehall, calling at some 

of the shops. Lady L. explained to us that 

“ stores” are places where a variety of goods are 
3 


34 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


sold. They are usually large, and tlieir owners 
wealthy ; but where a specialty is made of one class 
of articles, the place is called a “ shop ”—like the 
grocer’s, baker’s, umbrella maker’s, etc. She 
thought it very funny that in America we called 
every little shop, however insignificant, a store - It 
was the custom, she told us, of the nobility, who of 
course were well able to do it, to buy up bankrupt 
goods at a small figure, and open large stores, ab¬ 
sorbing a great proportion of the public patronage ; 
but she added earnestly: 

“It’s a great wrong — a very great wrong; for 
these men are ruining the poor shop-keepers, who 
cannot begin to compete with them.” 

The Arcade was especially attractive, with its 
double row of plate-glass windows, filled with every 
variety of articles. Although only the better class 
of stores are found here, our friend told us it would 
be considered disreputable for a young lady to be 
seen here alone in the afternoon. In the morning 
it would be allowable, though it was not thought 
genteel for an English girl to go on the street at any 
time without her maid. 

One day at lunch Lady L. carved the chicken 
herself,—remarking that her father taught her to 
carve when she was a very young girl. She asked 
if girls were taught to cook in America, and when 
we replied, “yes, and a good many other prac- 


AN ENGLISH HOME. 


35 


tical arts,” she seemed pleased, and told us that 
in Holland, where her father and grandfather had 
lived, girls were taught to do all kinds of work, and 
one would be considered a lady even if she did darn 
and spin. She told us she had done a good deal of 
plain sewing in her life, and always, when she had 
time, had darned her husband’s stockings. 

We had company at dinner in the evening. Mr. 
B. was greatly amused at the flying visits Americans 
made to places of interest in London ; yet he had 
lived sixteen years in the city and never been inside 
the British Museum. 

Mr. B., a recent graduate from the London Uni¬ 
versity, told us that women were allowed to 
pass the examinations, though not to take degrees ; 
adding that he firmly believed in women having 
opportunity for as good an education as men. Lady 
L. thoroughly disagreed with him, saying: 

“ I believe young ladies in high positions should 
have the best governesses, and all the education 
they want; but such advantages would unfit the 
poorer classes for their station in life. Instead of 
being servants or maids, they would all want to be 
governesses; and then what opening would there 
be for the daughters of gentlemen, who are obliged 
to earn their living in some way? Besides, the 
poorer classes are prone to be coarse even if they 
are educated.” 


36 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


The drawing-room, with its soft, subdued light 
from the tall candles, was a restful place to spend 
our evenings in. At nine o’clock the butler set out 
a low table, a silver tray, and dainty china; tea and 
cake were served — and then, Good-night. 


CHAPTER Y. 


A SPRAY OF SCOTTISH HEATHER, 


/~\UR reception in Scotland was a wet one. At 
Melrose, it poured. We gazed up at the dark 
clouds, that showed no signs of breaking, for a 
glimpse of the blue beyond; but all in vain. Yet 
we could not be miserable, with the ivy-clad moss- 
lined abbey just across the way, and the misty hills, 
lovely even in wet weather, stretching far beyond. 

Below our window ran a quaint little street, 
with cobble-stone pavement, and rows of low-roofed 
primitive shops. Almost every tiny window-ledge 
was bright with pots of blooming plants, and every 
show-window was attractive with knickknacks carved 
from the woods grown round the home of Scott. 

At last the storm cleared; and after a hurried 
ramble through the picturesque ruins of the Abbey, 
gazing with melancholy interest at the spot where 
the heart of Robert Bruce is said to repose, we 
started for Abbotsford. The roadside was lined 
with bright-eyed wild-flowers, nodding clusters of 
Scotch bluebells, and dewy mosses ; while far below 
us rushed the noisy Tweed over its rocky bed. We 
passed sweet Scotch homes built of neat granite, 


38 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


and substantial stone kirks with low wide*spreading 
roofs and burial-grounds in the rear. 

Soon we came in sight of the Scott mansion — 
large and hospitable, standing in the midst of beau¬ 
tiful grounds. A granddaughter of Sir Walter, 
they told us, lived there, and kept the place. The 
poet’s apartments are open to the public. We 
saw his bed-room, and his private study adjoining, 
just as he left it, with its stiff book-cases, relieved 
by the cheerful fireplace, and his arm-chair before 
the writing-table. The walls of the armory are 
hung with bristling steel. Here are the shield, 
sword, and golden spurs of Bruce, and the last suit 
of clothes Sir Walter wore. The library, a large 
sunny room, has a fine view of the country around. 
On the walls of the sitting-room hang some family 
portraits, among them a very life-like one of Sir 
Walter when a young man. 

Scott lies buried in Dryburgh Abbey. His tomb 
is within a little enclosure, amid swaying trees, sing¬ 
ing birds, and the ivy-covered ruins of the old mon¬ 
astery— a fit resting-place for this lover of nature. 
We paid our tribute at his grave one morning, and 
at evening were in Edinburgh. 

“The most beautiful city in Europe!” an enthusi¬ 
astic friend in London had declared; and we were 
not disappointed. It was hard to realize we were in 
a city at all, with gently-sloping hills so near us on 


A SPRAY OF SCOTTISH HEATHER. 


39 


one side, and abrupt mountains on the other, while 
just behind rose Calton hill, crowned by Nelson's 
Monument. The streets looked as if they had been 
scrubbed — they were so white and clean, as we 
viewed them from our hotel window. 

Princes street is in New Edinburgh; and a greater 
contrast can hardly be imagined than this handsome 
avenue, lighted by electricity, with its stone blocks, 
hotels, and statues, and Old Edinburgh, across the 
park, scarcely a stone’s-tlirow away. To cross to 
Old Edinburgh is like going into another world. 
There everything has the air of antiquity. “ Cow- 
gate ” and u Cannon-gate ” are two of the oldest 
streets — narrow and crooked, filled with troops of 
dirty children and quarrelling men and women. The 
houses, tall and ancient, are crowded together, 
each having the doubtful ornament of a triangular 
wooden frame suspended from the sills of the upper 
windows, where, for want of yard-room, clothes are 
hung out to dry, like inglorious banners. 

On “Cannon-gate”—once the finest street in 
the city — we saw the house of John Knox, pro¬ 
jecting into the street at the “Nether-bow.” It 
was his home for thirteen years, and here he died. 
We looked out of the very window where he used 
to stand and preach to the people in the street; and 
we sat in his oaken arm-chair — the only article that 
belonged to him remaining in the house. 


40 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


Kestled at the foot of a green hill is Holvrood 
palace, and on the summit of a precipitous wall of 
rock towers the castle, both haunted by memories 
of Mary Queen of Scots. Much of the palace is 
quite modern, but the old tower, containing Mary’s 
apartments, still remains. There is a touching 
interest attached to everything that once was hers: 
the little desk her fair fingers handled, the stiff- 
backed chairs she sat upon, and the dainty bed, 
with its faded silk coverlet and canopy of em¬ 
broidered crimson silk, that must have been hand¬ 
some in its day. Among the ruins of ITolyrood 
Abbey lie the remains of Darnley, but Mary’s ashes 
rest beneath her stately tomb in Westminster. 

Our day for the Trosachs was perfect. The 
stage-coach, with “Roderick Dhu ” painted in 
large letters on a flaming red background, was 
ready promptly at the hour. Though late in Sep¬ 
tember, the hills were still green; and the heather, 
if not in the bloom of early summer, was still pretty 
and abundant. Sheep-bells were heard tinkling far 
up the mountain-side ; snug little farm-houses, 
tucked away in some cosy nook, peeped out at us 
from their hiding-places; and sturdy farmers in 
Highland dress trudged heavily by, followed by 
their shepherd dogs, and talking in the Gaelic 
tongue. 


A SPRAY OF SCOTTISH HEATHER. 


41 


“ The Trosaclis” properly applies only to a mile 
and a half of road through a wild gorge shut in 
by high mountains. Just at the end of the gorge 
lies Loch Katrine, where the little steamer “Rob 
Roy” was waiting to take us across to Inversnaid. 
The loch was calm and beautiful. “ Ellen’s Isle,” 
thickly-wooded, lay reflected as in a mirror; while 
above us towered the ragged heights of Benvoirlich 
and his mates, 

“ fantastically set 
With cupola and minaret.” 

Tarbot is a sheltered little village at the head of 
Loch Lomond, made up of a big hotel and a few ivy- 
clad cottages. What a charming place to rest! 
thought L. and I, as we stepped off the steamer 
upon the landing, to enjoy the cool breezes for a few 
days. The hotel was cheerless and deserted; but Miss 
MacF. always took summer boarders, and gave the 
best of entertainment. She lived in a snug thatched 
cottage, one side hidden behind a perfect mat of 
swaying ivy, and the white wall in front covered 
with blooming vines of pink and red roses, fuchsias 
and wild honeysuckle. Two maiden sisters, with 
their little nephews “Duncan” and “Dugald.” 
and a dear old grandmother, lived here together. 

What happy times were those—climbing the hills, 
rowing on the lake overshadowed by Ben Lomond’s 
shaggy head, and breathing the pure mountain air! 


42 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


But our last day came at Tarbot. Miss MacF, 
spread the round table for dinner in the pretty 
parlor, and filled the ancestral blue bowls with her 
most delicious oat-meal porridge and cream ; then 
slipping out she picked us a handful of sweet wild 
flowers, which were kept long after they had faded, 
as bright reminders of our visit to the Highlands. 

A few days later found us at Kilmarnock, a small 
manufacturing town twenty miles from Glasgow and 
ten from Ayr. The memories of certain happy hours 
spent at Morningside Villa, the lovely home of three 
true-hearted Scotch lassies, will make it ever seem 
to us one of the most charming spots in the world. 

“ Let this be your headquarters, and make excur¬ 
sions to places of interest in the vicinity,” chimed in 
many voices, as, seated around the grate fire in the 
cheerful breakfast room, we were busy planning for 
a week of pleasure. 

The first bright day was reserved for our 

trip to Ayr. This quaint little town, with blue 

* 

hills on one side and the restless sea stretching 
far away on the other, seemed a fitting birth¬ 
place for a poet. The Burns cottage, with its low 
white walls, stands close by the roadside, only a 
short walk from Kirk Alloway and within sound of 
the musical waters of the “bonny Doon,” as they 
wind in and out among the trees. 

Kever can we forget our call at the home of 


A SPRAY OF SCOTTISH HEATHER. 


43 


the Misses Beggs, the only living relatives of 
Robert Burns. A short walk brought us to a 
neat thatched-roof cottage, facing the sea. A 
pleasant-looking girl answered our knock, and lead¬ 
ing us through a narrow passage-way, swung wide 
open the sitting-room door. As pretty a picture 
met our gaze as we could wish to see. A wealth 
of sunshine was streaming in through the tiny 
polished windows, lighting up every nook and 
corner, but resting most lovingly on a dear old 
lady, who, seated beside the table, near the fire, rose 
inquiringly from her arm-chair to meet us. She 
wore a purple dress, very full and flowing, a long 
white apron, a bright shawl thrown over her shoul¬ 
ders, and on her head a snowy cap, trimmed with 
purple ribbon, its dainty folds almost concealing the 
silvery hair beneath. Her calm blue eyes and 
kindly smile at once disarmed all fear of a cool 
reception, and we were soon chatting together as 
familiarly as old friends. Miss Beggs, the elder 
sister — not so attractive in personal appearance, 
but beaming with good nature,— soon came in and 
joined our little circle. 

u Do many Americans call to see you?” we asked. 

“Oh yes; not long since, a relative of Mr. Gar¬ 
field, your late President, was here. Poor Garfield ? 
The day of his funeral the flag on Burns’s monument 
was at half-mast.” 


44 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


“ Is that a good portrait of the poet, you have on 
the wall ? ” 

“It is the best there is ; and that one next to it 
is a picture of my mother, his youngest sister. We 
are his nieces. Are you fond of his poems ? ” 

“ Yes, indeed.” 

“Would you like to see some of Burns’s auto¬ 
graph letters ?' 1 they asked. “We have to keep 
them framed, or they would be carried away by 
visitors. 1 ’ 

An eager assent being given, two letters, yellow 
with age, were brought down from the chest up¬ 
stairs and carefully laid on the table. They were 
penned in a round clear hand, to his brother William 
in London, and were full of excellent advice, which, 
if poor Robert himself had followed might have 
brought him years of life and happiness; such 
shrewd worldly counsel as that of which lie patheti¬ 
cally wrote — 

“And may you better reck the rede 
Than ever did the adviser.” 

“May we pick a flower from the garden?” we 
asked, as we rose to leave. “ It would be a pleasant 
memento of our visit.” 

“Oh, yes; take all you want. There are some 
violets growing by the fence, that Robert planted 
himself. Pick some of them.” 

We extended our hand for a good-bye shake, but 


A SPRAY OF SCOTTISH HEATHER. 


45 


the old ladies drew us to them and gave us each a 
hearty kiss as well. Looking back as we hastened 
away in the direction of the station, the bright 
picture of red and purple was still seen fluttering 
in the doorway, with two hands waving a last adieu. 


CHAPTER YI. 


ERIN MAVOURNEEN. 


OUCH a time as we had crossing the Irish sea! 
^ They told us it was the worst storm since March. 
Heavy wooden chairs danced like balls around the 
cabin; drawers flew out of their places, and several 
times I wildly clutched the sides of my berth, certain 
that in another minute I should be thrown violently 
upon the floor. The night seemed an eternity. We 
wondered how we could ever re-cross the Atlantic, 
and almost made up our minds to remain forever on 
that side. 

It was nearly eight o’clock in the morning when 
we left the steamer at Belfast. The porter who 
helped us off* with our satchels asked if we would 
have a cab or a car. Dizzy and faint, we replied, 
“A car,” without the dimmest notion of the char¬ 
acter of that vehicle. 

“Here’s the car!” he presently shouted, at the 
same moment throwing our parcels upon it. How 
we laughed as we eyed the crazy-looking affair ! 

One unacquainted with the time-honored jaunting- 
car peculiar to Ireland, can have no conception of 
the delight and torture of that memorable ride. The 

46 


ERIN MAYOURNEEN. 


47 


two seats, their backs together, run lengthwise of 
the car, which is open on all sides, giving one a 
fine opportunity to view the country. The foot-rest 
joggled uncomfortably, and kept us in imminent dan¬ 
ger of being thrown into the street; but by holding 
on with both hands we succeeded in reaching our 
hotel in safety. 

Later in the day Mr. A. called, and took us in his 
carriage to Wheatfield, his country-seat, near the 
outskirts of the city. Passing the porter’s lodge, 
we entered the lovely grounds, and were soon at the 
door of the spacious mansion, where we received one 
of the warmest of Irish welcomes, and were shown 
to a cosy room, with a cheerful grate-fire. 

As we retired for the night, Mrs. A. said to us: 
“We have breakfast at half-past ten; but the maid 
will take coffee to your room at half-past eight.” 

So, sure enough, next morning we were aroused 
by a light tap at our door, and in came a maid, bring¬ 
ing a tray with coffee and crackers. 

Mrs. A. had two rocking-chairs — the first we had 
seen since leaving home. She brought them from 
America in the centennial year, as curiosities. 

As Belfast is not the head of a diocese, it is not 
dignified with the name of city, although it is a place 
of two hundred thousand inhabitants. It is noted 
for its large linen and tweed manufactories. Mr. A., 
our host, owned one of the largest, and showed us 


48 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


through the buildings. In the sample-room we saw 
every variety of handkerchief, from the coarsest cot¬ 
ton to the finest embroidered linen. The amount of 
work on some of them was wonderful — all done by 
hand, the wages averaging scarcely more than six¬ 
pence a day. Six hundred persons were employed — 
most of them women and girls. Mr. A. told us he 
sold more goods to American merchants than to 
those of any other nation, and that the reason linen 
cannot be made in our country is that the frosts are 
so severe it cannot be put out to bleach. 

From Belfast there are two routes to the Giant’s 
Causeway — one inland, by rail, the other by jaunt¬ 
ing-car, sixty miles along the sea-shore. We chose 
the latter. 

Monday morning early we were at Larne, where 
we changed to the mail jaunting-car for Bally-Castle, 
near the Causeway. The driver, Mike O’Neil, was 
a rough old Irishman. We clearly understood him 
to say we could make connection with another car 
at Cairnlough; so we tucked our sea-robes snugly 
around our feet — for although the day promised to 
be beautiful, there was sure to be a cool breeze from 
the sea. At last the huge dray-horses were whipped 
up, and away we rattled over the cobble-stone pave¬ 
ments. 

Evidently our departure was the grand event of 
the day; for as we rode through the narrow streets 


ERIN M.A VOURNEEY. 


49 


of the little village, dirty-faced children ran to the 
doors of the miserable huts they call home, and 
good-natured men and women along the road shouted 
“ Good-bye, and good lock to ye! ” 

Cairnlougli, which we reached in due time, is a 
pretty town on “the Irish Bay of Naples.” 

“Where is the car going to Bally-Castle?” we 
asked, hastily dismounting, as we remembered 
Mike could take us no further. 

“ Och ! I meant ye could hire a special car; 
there is no other mail-car to-day,” was the cheerful 
rejoinder. 

This was truly exasperating ; hut finding it use¬ 
less to multiply words, we determined calmly to 
submit to the inevitable. Half mechanically, we 
crossed the street to a neat little shop in a cottage 
opposite. A bustling motherly-faced old lady stood 
behind the counter, and beamed upon us so kindly 
through her spectacles that we ventured to ask if 
she knew of any respectable family who could 
lodge us for the night. 

“Bless ye! I can give ye a good, well-aired 
bed, if that’s all ye want; and I’ll warrant it’ll be 
clean, if it ain’t anything else.” 

We were only too glad to accept this offer, and 

were at once led into the little kitchen and left to 

warm ourselves. Oh, how cheery it was! The 

floor was stone, but there was a bright rug in front 
4 


50 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


of the grate. In one corner sat a parrot on its 
perch, while two contented-looking cats purred 
before the fire. 

Mrs. Pound presently appeared, arrayed in her 
best black gown, and a cap with three stiffly- 
starched ruffles and trimmed with purple ribbons, 
in honor of our arrival. 

“That’s the boy I’ve had to bring up for the 
last forty years,” she chirped, laughingly nodding 
toward her husband, standing in the doorway. 
“Hurry up, old man! make a good fire and put 
on the kettle.” 

Mr. Pound had spent most of his life on the sea, 
and, like all jolly tars, had a fluent tongue and 
ready wit. 

“Why,” said he, as we sat down to a bountiful 
dinner of fresh mutton, mealy potatoes, and coun¬ 
try milk; “talk about Ireland being poor! The 
land’s flowing with milk and honey! There ha’n’t 
been sich a crop o’ potatoes for twenty years ; and 
look at the quality, too! Did ye ever taste o’ bet¬ 
ter? The grain harvest has been first-rate, and 
meat is cheap. The trouble is, you Americans 
send over too much money ; it makes our people 
lazy.” 

They had “raised ” a family of ten boys, and Mrs. 
Pound triumphantly pointed to three temperance 


ERIN MA VOURNEEN 


51 


pledges, framed and hung upon the wall, as she 
said: 

u My old man hasn’t touched a drop for ten 
years ; and my boys are following his example.” 

As the day drew to a close, the candles were 
lighted and the fire stirred anew, till the corner of 
the old sea-chest and the plates on the dresser glis¬ 
tened like gold in the bright light. 

Our little bedroom was very humble. The floor 
was carpetless. A large chest stood at one side, 
and the window, with its pretty white curtain, 
looked out upon the sea, whose spray occasionally 
dashed against it. 

The first sound we heard in the morning was the 
familiar tune, u Hold the Fort,” played by Mr. 
Pound on his accordion. A delicious breakfast 
awaited us in the cozy kitchen. We had three 
kinds of fish, caught that morning by our host — 
who had also walked four miles to buy a morning 
paper, thinking the American girls would like to 
have news from home. 

We had a merry ride to Bally-Castle. The 
scenery was beautiful, the cliffs rising very high on 
one side, and the sea, calm and blue, stretching far 
away on the other. We passed many peasants, 
both men and women, clad in rags, but full of Irish 
good-nature. Most of the farm-houses had thatched 
roofs, and there was an air of thrift about them, 


52 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


pleasing to see. A gentleman on the car seemed 
very familiar with the country, and, when he learned 
we were Americans, pointed out to us all the 
objects of interest. 

“Do you see that mountain, yonder ?” said he. 
4 ‘It is so steep that when the people hoe their pota¬ 
toes, they have to be tied together with a rope 
to prevent their falling off.” 

There was a moment’s silence. Then keen-wit¬ 
ted L. exclaimed disdainfully: 

“ Do you expect us to believe that Irish story ? ” 

A hearty burst of laughter followed, but I re¬ 
frained from confessing that one “ Innocent abroad ” 
had been placing implicit confidence in every word. 

Our road next morning, leading from Cushing- 
dall over the mountains, was beautiful with tiny 
lakes and broad fields of heather, bordered by 
grassy banks from which sprang the graceful far- 
famed shamrock. We passed large bogs of peat, 
which is very abundant in this part of the country, 
while cart-loads of dried flax rustled by on their 
way to the mill. 

It was dusk when we reached the Causeway. 
Finding the hotel closed, as it was past the season, 
we were driven to the cheerful Temperance Cottage, 
from which our good friend Mrs. K. hurried out 
excitedly to meet us. 

“Dear me! Do come right out into the kitchen 



w 

3 

w 

3 

eC 

•-O 














































































































ERIN MA VOURNEEN. 


53 


whar it is warm, while I make up a good fire in the 
parlor. If I’d only know’d you were coming ! Stir 
round, now, Mary Jane, and git the young ladies 
sunthin’ to eat. Paddy, do stay, and hev a cup o’ 
tea and some oat cakes, won’t ye? ” 

The wind was high and the breakers threatening 
next morning. The Causeway is a dismal place in 
had weather. We looked from our windows over a 
dreary waste of sand and sea, and a little later, 
enveloped in waterproofs, wended our way down 
the muddy bank to the water’s edge. Our craft 
was large as a life-boat, and manned by four sturdy 
oarsmen. 

u Hurry in ; the tide is rising fast, and we’ve no 
time to lose ! ” called the men from the boat. 

Mrs. K. watched us anxiously from the shore, 
as with the spray dashing in our faces we rowed 
slowly toward the Caves. There are two of them, 
high and deep, one running back six hundred feet. 
Sea-snakes lifted their heads out of the dismal 
green water, and the walls and roof of the cavern 
were clammy and cold. 

“The echo is fine.” So said one of the men, 
and offered to fire off a pistol for our benefit; but 
the great waves rolling in from the sea, and break¬ 
ing among the rocks in the distance, resounded 
loudly enough to satisfy us. 

It was a hard pull of a mile and a half from the 


54 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


Caves to the Giant’s Causeway; and a wild coast it 
was, looking straight out to the wide-spreading 
ocean. From the water’s edge the pavement grad¬ 
ually rises like a flight of steps to its highest point. 
The white spray was now dashing high above it, and 
our hearts trembled as we thought of landing there. 
Watching a lull in the breakers, one of the sailors 
sprang on to the rocks — then reaching out his hands 
to L. and me, landed us safely beside him. We 
picked our way over the slippery basalt blocks, cut 
in as perfect prisms as if they had been chiselled 
by the hand of man. The sea crept up between the 
crevices and deposited pretty shells and delicate sea- 
moss. We filled our hands with the dripping beau¬ 
ties, to carry home as trophies of our exploits. 

From the Causeway we went to Londonderry, 

“Where Foyle his swelling waters 
Rolls northward to the main,” 

and thence to Dublin, and to picturesque Killar- 
ney beyond. Three weeks later, we were again 
looking out upon the sea — but this time from the 
hills of Queenstown, with our faces toward the east, 
and a 4 ‘ good-bye ” for Green Erin. 


CHAPTER VII. 


SIGHTS AND SOUNDS IN BERLIN. 


Berlin! a Berlin /” was the Frenchman’s 



war-cry, as he marched northward, assured of 
an easy victory; and we, in turn, echoed the refrain, 
though with a far different meaning. 

On Thanksgiving morning, sunny and warm, we 
made our entry into Prussia’s proud capital. After 
many weeks spent on the wing in Great Britain, a 
night of misery on the channel, and a few days’ 
sojourn among the volatile French, we were well 
prepared to enjoy a season of rest among these 
solid Germans. 

Herr Supplitz’ pension was admirably situated, 
and our rooms were very comfortable. There was no 
carpet on the floor, for carpets are rarely used here. 
In one corner stood the tall porcelain stove, which 
we innocently mistook, on first sight, for a clothes- 
press. A light fire was made early in the morning, 
and then allowed to go out; but our room remained 
warm all day. We had a fearful struggle with the 
feather-beds, but proved no match for them. After 
a week’s experience of perspiring one half the night, 
and shivering through the other half, a frantic 


55 


56 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


appeal was made to Fraulein for a quilt covering,— 
much to her surprise at our depraved tastes. 

The busy streets presented an ever-varying pano¬ 
rama, whose phases we never grew tired of study¬ 
ing. There were sooty but merry chimney-sweeps 
shouldering their brushes ; a butcher’s boy clattered 
by in his wooden shoes; then came fantastically 
dressed peasant women, in short red-flannel petti¬ 
coats and flowing head-gear of linen or cotton ; hack- 
drivers, in blue, who hiss when they see you in dan¬ 
ger of being run over ; and last, but not least, a 
University student, peering gravely through his 
glasses, or proudly displaying the slashes on his 
face, received in some recent combat. 

“Surely, this is the land of giants!” w r e ex¬ 
claimed again and again, as some square-shouldered 
officer in splendid uniform brushed by, or a troop of 
soldiers in glittering helmets marched along the 
street. One entire regiment consisted of men six 
feet tall. 

“ If war should be declared this morning,” said a 
friend, “in twenty-four hours there would be a 
million men ready to obey the commands of the 
emperor. We have not the largest army in the 
world, but the best organized.” 

“It must impoverish your country to support so 
many soldiers,” we said to a thrifty farmer. 

“No,” he replied, “for wages are very low, and 


SIGHTS AND SOUNDS IN BERLIN. 


they would become still lower if all these soldiers 
were allowed to engage in labor.” 

One of the drollest sights in the streets of Ber¬ 
lin, and yet one that always excited our pity, was 
the large number of dogs made to serve as substi¬ 
tutes for horses. They reminded us of the mice in 
the story of Cinderella — only the coach in this case 
was a large and often heavily-laden cart. But they 
submitted quite cheerfully to their tasks, until 
some impudent cur, rejoicing in the sweets of lib¬ 
erty, would flounce his tail in front of their very 
noses, which was too much even for dog-nature to 
endure. We were much amused watching from our 
window the baker’s dogs across the street. The 
cart was brought to the door, and at the proper time 
these sagacious animals would gravely step up and 
station themselves in front of it, waiting to be har¬ 
nessed, often barking with delight at the prospect 
of starting off. There is a stringent law in Prussia 
compelling every member of the canine tribe to 
wear a muzzle; a wise precaution, as many of them, 
like the people, attain an enormous size. 

Although most foreigners come to Berlin for 
study, it is a city by no means devoid of interest to 
the ordinary tourist. The Aquarium is one of the 
finest in Europe. It is built under-ground; the walls 
and ceilings are in imitation of solid rock, and repre¬ 
sent nature in her wildest moods. Through the glass 


58 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


windows along the sides, where the rock is made to 
represent the strata below the surface of the ocean, 
curious fishes are seen swimming in the water, and 
corals and polyps unfolding their delicate tentacles. 
The beautiful water-plants, exquisitely colored, pink, 
red, white, and brown, are transported from the 
bed of the sea, and seem to thrive as well here as in 
their native soil. 

Potsdam is the most picturesque suburb of Ber¬ 
lin. Here is the Sans Souci palace — the favorite 
residence of Frederick the Great, which remains 
almost as he left it. Near it is the New Palace, 
used as a summer residence by the Crown Prince 
and his family. This is a magnificent building. In 
one marvellous apartment of vast dimensions, the 
entire walls and ceiling are veneered with mother- 
of-pearl, and every variety of precious stones — pro¬ 
ducing a most dazzling effect by gaslight. 

Bilse is to Berlin what Theodore Thomas is to 
New York; and his fine orchestral concerts, given 
every night, attract crowds of music-lovers. Pass¬ 
ing through a broad corridor, we suddenly enter the 
brilliantly-lighted hall. The scene here presented 
is thoroughly German. All about the room are 
scattered little tables around which the people are 
seated, conversing in a most social manner. The 
loges , in the second and third galleries, are fitted up 
with sofas and easy chairs, where the ladies remove 


SIGHTS AND SOUNDS IN BERLIN. 


59 


their wraps and occupy themselves with fancy-work, 
or sip beer and eat ices with the gentlemen. The 
moment the music begins, every whisper ceases, and 
not a sound is heard till the last note is struck — 
though between the overtures the waiters fly excit¬ 
edly about, serving their customers. The “ Tun¬ 
nel ” is a room in the basement, where the members 
of the band retire between the parts, for refresh¬ 
ment. Wednesday and Saturday nights, smoking 
is forbidden in the concert hall before nine o’clock; 
but at other times it is allowed all the evening. 

Everybody who visits Berlin attends service at 
the Dom. This is one of the oldest Lutheran 
churches, and chiefly attractive because the Em¬ 
peror and his family attend service here. He has 
an apartment in the gallery at the right of the pul¬ 
pit. We saw him one Sunday — a fine-looking man, 
with a kindly face. 

As the holidays draw near, great preparations 
begin in the merry u Deutschland” for the Christ¬ 
mas festivities. Our Fraulein was busy with, a great 
varhing, for she solemnly declared that if any 
wore done the next week, some one in the family 
would surely die. The handsome stores in Unter- 
den-Linden and Frederickstrasse were filled with 
beautiful displays of goods. But we preferred the 
little toy-shops that attracted such crowds of flaxen¬ 
haired “Carls” and “Gretchens,” who, with their 


60 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


funny little knapsacks strapped on their backs, were 
often tempted to loiter on their way home from 
school; and we with them flattened our noses against 
the window-pane and peered lovingly at the “beau¬ 
ties ”spread out before us. Such wonderful “cookie 
hearts,” ornamented with pink and white sugar, 
with a motto in the centre! such rows upon rows of 
little pink candy pigs, to be presented as gifts of 
good luck! Such huge piles of gingerbread, with 
nuts imbedded in the top! and, most important of 
all, such famous lyfefferkuchen, or “ lioney-cakeo,” 
without which the Germans think they cannot cele¬ 
brate Christmas! Indeed, the position and wealth 
of a family are largely measured by the quantity of 
these dainties bought for the holiday season. 

“ Only think! ” exclaimed a good frau , who had 
just invested twelve marks in this way; “ that woman 
in the store with me only spent four marks for 
pfefferJcuchen! and she was well dressed, too.” 

Christmas trees, of all kinds and sizes, adorned 
the sidewalks and filled the open squares; for every 
family, no matter how poor, must indulge in this 
luxury once a year. 

“Are there any children in your family?” we 
asked the young woman r L the little bakery on the 
corner, as the tree was being trimmed in the side- 


room. 


SIGHTS AND SOUNDS IN BERLIN. 


61 


“Oh, no,*’ was the ready reply, “but there are 
the servants and ourselves; we want one.” 

The place most frequented at this merry season is 
the Lustgarten. This is a fine open square in the 
centre of the city, where the country people gather 
several weeks before the holidays. Here they set 
up rows of canvas booths and display for sale the 
myriads of toys they have been busy making during 
the year. The scene is a lively one at all times, but 
the excitement reaches its height in the evening, 
when the lamps are lighted, and the crowds of 
pleasure-seekers throng the place. A perfect babel 
of voices is heard on every side. Hideous “jumping- 
jacks” are dangled before our faces, toy bears per¬ 
form their antics for our especial benefit, and ven¬ 
ders of every conceivable article scream in our ears. 

As we examined the wooden toys for which Ger¬ 
many is so celebrated, some of them showing skillful 
workmanship, “Aunt Jo’s” well-known couplet 
came to mind: 

“ The children of Holland take pleasure in making 
What the children of Boston take pleasure in breaking.” 

The excitement lasts till late in the evening, 
when the merry-makers disperse, to gather again the 
next night more jubilant than ever. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


A GERMAN CHRISTMAS. 


UR festivities began on Christmas eve, with an 



entertainment at the Moravian church. The 
“Christian Brethren,” as members of this sect are 
called, form quite a little community in Berlin and 
Fraulein F., who gave us tickets, assured us we 
might expect something very interesting. 

The exercises were to begin promptly at five 
o’clock, and the brilliantly-lighted audience-room was 
well-filled at an early hour. The minister — a large, 
fine-looking man — was in the pulpit and seated on 
benches near him, facing the audience, were the 
teachers — all women. Each one wore white cotton 
gloves, a white cape, and the daintiest of mull caps, 
puffed, frilled, and trimmed with narrow bands of 
colored ribbon. All the children were adorned with 
the same novel head-gear, and the effect was most 
charming—especially on one roguish little girl in 
front of us, whose saucy pink bows seemed quite in 
harmony with the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. 

The service, with the exception of a short prayer 
and scripture reading, consisted entirely of song, the 


62 


A GERMAN CHRISTMAS. 


63 


school and congregation alternating with the choir. 
During the exercises, and without any break in the 
singing, a cup of tea and a bun were served to each 
one present. We were sure that among so many, 
some broken china would be carried out; but no ac¬ 
cident happened in this orderly assembly. Indeed, 
it was almost painful to see so many well-behaved 
children. Having once ventured a remark in an un¬ 
dertone to a friend, we observed a lady near by gaz¬ 
ing reproachfully at us, and suddenly remembered 
that during the entire evening not a person had been 
seen to whisper. The gentlemen occupied seats on 
one side of the room, the ladies on the other. 
Just as the entertainment was closing, a side-door 
opened, and the teachers, led by the lady prin¬ 
cipal, stepped gravely forth, each bearing a tray of 
lighted candles. These were distributed among the 
children, as emblematic of the Christ-child, who 
came as “ a light into the world,” one Christmas 
night many years ago. 

Our German friend Herr W., and his family, 
who had kindly invited us to their home to 
share in the evening’s festivities, were full of 
excitement. While the father and mother were 
adding the finishing touches to the tree, the children 
gathered outside the door, and sang carols till the 
tinkling of the bell announced that all was ready. 
How merry and delighted everybody was! The 


G± 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


presents were not hung upon the tree, as with us, 
but placed at its foot, or around the room ; still the tree 
was very beautiful, and laden with a wealth of pretty 
little trinkets, many of which are not found in Amer¬ 
ica— such as curious “cookie*’ dolls, rosy apples 
covered with gold tissue, etc. Candy is expensive 
in Germany, and only the wealthy enjoy that luxury. 

Children of Christian families are not taught to 
believe in Santa Claus, but are told that the gifts 
come from their parents in remembrance of the 
birth of Christ. “It seems strange,*’ said a friend 
one day, “that in civilized America you cherish an 
idea so heathenish in its origin, and even introduce St. 
Nicholas into your Sunday-school entertainments.” 

Christmas morning we visited the military church. 
The soldiers, in dress uniform, crowded the vast 
audience-room. It was a grand sight. At the peal 
of the organ the whole assembly arose. There was 
a glitter of epaulettes and clanking of swords; then 
from hundreds of lips the anthem burst forth, and 
swelled aloft til! the very arches resounded with the 
choral strains. 

Monday morning, just as the first hues of ap¬ 
proaching day began to light up the eastern sky, 
two shivering girls might have been seen hastening 
along the deserted streets in the direction of a large 
Lutheran Sunday-school, whose Christmas celebra¬ 
tion was to begin precisely at seven o’clock. The 


A GERMAN CHRISTMAS. 


65 


well-warmed chapel was an agreeable change from 
the damp foggy air without. In the centre of the 
room • rose the tall tree, with a beautiful gilt star 
glistening from its topmost branch. 

The children, happy and expectant, were in their 
places, and evidently much more wide-awake than 
some of the rest of us. We wondered how many 
American boys and girls would have left their warm 
beds so early on a cold winter morning, to be pres¬ 
ent at a Sunday-school entertainment. The exer¬ 
cises were somewhat monotonous, and consisted 
chiefly of singing and speaking by members of the 
school, each one of whom received a Scripture card 
as a reward of merit. No bon-bons or fruit were 
distributed, and the children were dismissed without 
the crowning pleasure of seeing the tree untrimmed. 

“ Would you like to accompany me to the coun 
try to-morrow and see how Christmas is celebrated 
among the peasantry ? ” asked our good friend, Herr 
W., a hard-working pastor in Berlin. 

No need of repeating this delightful invitation — 

even if it did mean rising at five o’clock. The choir 

had been invited to go too, so there was quite a party 

of us to take tickets at the station. In a verv short 

•/ 

time the little village was reached where began our 
long walk of four miles directly into the open country. 
We set out merrily, but had not gone far when a loud 

“ hurrah ! ” arrested our attention, and looking up ve 
5 


66 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


saw coming toward us a large wagon drawn by two 
liuge horses. It was too late to meet us at the cars, 
but was very welcome even then, for it was hard 
work battling against the cold wind. It w T as a queer 
old wagon, with slanting sides, straw in the bottom 
to keep our feet warm, and soft meal bags for seats. 
Clambering upon the shafts, and thence to our 
places, we were soon rolling rapidly over the hard 
road. Our driver was a jolly farmer, bundled up to 
his ears in furs, and had a droll way when he laughed 
of throwing his head back and exclaiming, “ Ach 
so ! ach so!” 

Soon we drew up before a snug farm-house, where 
a motherly dame met us at the door, and led us into 
the “best chamber,” filled with a pleasant odor of 
sweet apples. While we gathered around the stove, 
trying to warm our stiffened fingers, the good/raw 
placed upon the table a pitcher of steaming coffee, 
and great plates of Christmas cake, or “sweet¬ 
bread,” as we would call it. “Eat all you can,” 
said Herr W., “ for nothing will please these friends 
more.” Ho urging was needed, and the good things 
disappeared as though by magic. 

After this, we had only time for a flying visit to 
the kitchen, with its cold brick floor, and a peep at 
the well-filled barns, before dinner was announced. 
Upon the centre of the table was set an immense 
tureen filled with savory soup, from which each one 


A GERMAN CHRISTMAS . 


67 


was served bountifully. After this first course, what 
remained in our dishes was carefully poured back 
into the tureen and our plates were returned to us. 
Oar spoons were exchanged for pewter knives and 
forks, and the soup was followed by generous sup¬ 
plies of boiled goose and potatoes. In spite of the 
primitive style in which this dinner was served, I 
doubt whether any of us ever enjoyed one more. 
Half an hour later, another pitcher of hot coffee and 
plate of sweet-bread were set on the table, and we 
were expected to help ourselves. 

In the afternoon we visited a little village two 
miles distant. As we hurried over the smooth 
roads, which must be fine in summer, our eyes vainly 
wandered about for a mountain or hill to break the 
monotony of the scene. The soil, they told us, is 
not rich, and needs to be constantly fertilized. The 
cereals grow freely, but apples and pears are the 
only fruit that can endure the cold of that northern 
climate. Most of the farmers in that region are 
thrifty, and have cozy, substantial homes. The one- 
story houses are built of a kind of cement, or stucco, 
to imitate stone, and are painted a light pink, green, 
brown, or white, while the quaint low-tiled roofs 
reach half-way down their walls. 

The Sundav-school celebration was held in the 
«/ 

evening. The Town Hall had been hired, and every 
corner of it was filled long before the time for begin- 


68 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


ning. The little girls had their yellow hair braided 
tightly around their heads, and the little boys’ faces 
had been washed so clean they fairly glistened. 
The exercises passed off beautifully. The children 
stepped forward, made their funny little bows, 
recited their pieces in a perfectly parrot-like manner, 
and returned to their seats crowned with the laurels 
of success. What matter if, during some Casa- 
bianca effusion, the superintendent straightened a 
boy’s collar, or adjusted his position ? The speech 
sounded just as well, and everybody was delighted. 

The little house across the street, where we spent 
the night, was neat as wax. We were given the 
front room. Its floor was sanded, and in one corner 
stood the Christmas tree, from which the ginger-cake 
men were stil 1 dangling. Between the windows was 
a wooden table holding several beer-mugs. A tem¬ 
porary bed was made for us by placing some chairs 
against the bench that extended along the side of 
the porcelain stove. We slept between two feather 
beds, which had been previously slipped into clean 
pink calico cases. 

Long before daylight the next morning, we were 
conveyed back to the station — our sole light, the 
flickering flame from the lanterns, and our chief 
comfort the hunch of cake we held in bur hands and 
guarded with jealous care. 

A few days later, just as the midnight bells were 


A GERMAN CHRISTMAS. 


69 


ringing out their merry peals, there suddenly burst 
upon the air loud cries of u Happy New Year!” 
The excitement increased, till it seemed as if the in¬ 
mates of every home had rushed upon the streets to 
join the glad chorus — “ Happy New Year! Hap¬ 
py New Year! ” 


CHAPTER IX. 


NUREMBERG THE ANCIENT. 


*' Quaint old town of toil and traffic,— quaint old town of art and 
song; 

Memories haunt thy pointed gables, like the rooks that round them 
throng.” 



OME, wake up ! In five minutes we will be in 


the city!” And Fraulein Kesler accompa¬ 
nied her words with an energetic shake. Drowsily we 
rose from our cramped position on the car-seat, where 
we had been trying to rest a little during the long 
hours of the night, while in troubled dreams there 
had come to us sweet visions of “ Pullman sleepers” 
and soft berths. It was not yet three o'clock in the 
morning. The outer world was hidden in impene¬ 
trable blackness, and the damp chilly air that crept 
in through the window-casings made us draw our 
warm robes more closely about our shoulders. 

“Isn’t it beautiful! And this is travelling for 
pleasure! Oh, isn’t it nice! ” cried a voice from the 
corner, in broken English. 

But we only laughed at the cynical words, re¬ 
membering that our German friend had poor health, 
and did not always look at life through rose-colored 
sf Jctacles. 


70 


NUREMBERG TEE ANCIENT. 


71 


The train rushed into the station, and by some 
mysterious agency we were transferred, bag and 
baggage, to our place in the omnibus. Up and 
down, in and out, round and round, we went through 
a maze of narrow streets, and were finally whirled 
into the court-yard of the Bavaria Hotel. 

What a rambling old house it was !— counting its 
years by centuries, and crowded as full of his¬ 
tories as its corners were of dust. As we went up 
the creaking stair-case, and through the echoing 
halls, our eyes suspiciously searched each dark 
passage, half expecting to discover some opening 
leading to secret chambers, or to witness some 
startling metamorphosis in the strange devices that 
adorned the yellow walls. 

The sleepy porter unlocked the door of our room. 
By the flickering light of his single candle, we faintly 
discerned beds in a distant corner, screened by 
heavy green curtains. Overhead was a panelled 
ceiling of dark wood, and near the door stood the 
stove, the object of our warmest hopes. 

“ Will the porter make a fire ?’ 5 L. asked in 
German. 

“ Oh, certainly,” he replied, and disappeared. 

After long waiting, a fumbling was heard on the 
other side of the wall. What could the man be 
doing ? I ran to the door and peeped curiously out. 
There in the hall crouched our good genius, busily 


72 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


shovelling coal into the mouth of a fire-box which he 
assured us was attached to our stove. We watched 
the process with interest, then returned to our room 
to enjoy its effect. But the moments dragged wea¬ 
rily by. We sat for an hour bundled up in shawls, 
patiently pressing our numb fingers against the cold 
porcelain, that gave no indication of heating before 
noon; and finally, in chill despair, descended to the 
breakfast-room. 

A few hours later, well-equipped with mufflers, 
overshoes, and umbrellas, we started out for a stroll. 
The morning sun had not yet dissipated the mist 
that hung over the city, giving it a decidedly som¬ 
bre appearance. 

“I don't see much art or song about this!” 
exclaimed L., rather impatiently, as we picked our 
way cautiously over the frosty road, with the cold 
wind blowing in our faces. 

But in spite of the few discomforts, it was impossi¬ 
ble not to feel some enthusiasm as we explored this 
strange town, so unlike any we had ever seen, or 
shall ever see again. It is a monument of the past 
— the only city in Germany that has successfully 
defied all attacks from enemies, and baffled the rav¬ 
ages of “ modern improvements.” It is the only 
place that can boast of handing down to the present 
generation an undespoiled bit of the Middle Ages. 

The Pegnitz divides the town into two parts, and 


NUREMBERG THE ANCIENT. 


73 


is crossed by eight small but substantial stone bridges. 
The perspective from one of them is peculiarly strik¬ 
ing. The banks are lined with old-fashioned mills, 
and with rows of irregular, deformed looking dwell¬ 
ings, of every shape and variety. Where the shores 
slope to the water’s edge, we saw bevies of women 
washing clothes on pumice stones, and hanging 
them to dry on the numberless balconies project¬ 
ing over the stream, where these unromantic gar¬ 
ments, representing every color of the rainbow, 
appeared gayer still against a background of dark 
unpainted wall. 

The houses of Nuremberg are indescribable. If 
Dickens had seen them he would surely have said, 
as he did of the porches on the Corso in Rome: 44 If 
year after year, and season after season, it had 
rained houses, hailed houses, snowed houses, blown 
houses, they could scarcely have come into exist¬ 
ence in a more disorderly manner/’ In general 
aspect they are much alike; tall and slim, with 
slanting roofs and sharp gables. The windows, 
steeple-like, rise in the side to the very peak, al¬ 
though it is certain no human beings of ordinary 
dimensions - could inhabit a chamber so contracted. 
The facades are sometimes plain, but oftener adorned 
with half-obliterated frescoes, or grotesque statues, 
in stucco, of gnomes and wizards, that stare at you 
with open mouths and horrid countenances. The 


74 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


tiled roofs are ornamented with castellated chimneys, 
fanciful cupolas, turrets, and low eye-shaped win¬ 
dows, apparently serving the sole purpose of afford¬ 
ing hiding-places to the rooks that swarm about them. 

The crooked streets branch off in all directions, 
following their own sweet will, which is very vacil¬ 
lating. Let no one vainly imagine he can take a 
“short-cut” in Nuremberg — either he will find 
himself, to his chagrin, in an opposite quarter of the 
city, or after spending hours in wandering through 
a web of devious by-ways, wearied and bewildered, 
will suddenly see before his eyes the very object he 
has so long been seeking. 

The people, like the city, are thoroughly unique. 
The boy with a great basket of crisp pretzels strapped 
on his shoulders, and the fat babies snuggled cosily 
between soft feather beds, in their high carriages 
drawn by the elder sisters, are sights common enough 
in other German cities, but they possess a peculiar 
charm when seen among these quaint surroundings. 

Here the “ Woman’s Bights ” question assumes a 
new aspect. Leaving their little ones to the care of 
Providence, the wives take their place by the side of 
their husbands, cleaning the roads, sawing wood, 
selling newspapers, and engaging in other like work, 
with great determination. It was interesting to 
watch them as they gathered in little companies 
around the wooden pumps to draw water. Placing 







BUT THE MARKET-PLACE HAD THE LIVELIEST INTEREST. 












































































































NUREMBERG THE ANCIENT. 


75 


the enormous funnel-shaped cans under the spout, 
the women chatted busily while waiting for them to 
fill; then, fastening the heavy burdens upon their 
backs, padded to relieve the weight, they marched 
bravely away, often without spilling a drop, though 
the cans were full to the brims. 

But the market-place had the liveliest interest. 
Here could be bought every article imaginable, from 
a pair of wooden bellows to a chest of drawers or a 
jar of sour-krout. The square was lined with rude 
stalls and country wagons. Many of the goods — 
such as dishes, shoes, cheese, beds, etc.— were 
placed on the ground. Order was wholly disre¬ 
garded, and would, indeed, have been quite out of 
keeping with the place. The voices of the people 
sounded like the busy hum of bees in a hive. Car¬ 
rying about with them a small pan of hot coals to 
keep their hands warm, they laughed good-naturedly 
at our questions, and seemed as contented in the 
little world in which they live, and as unconcerned 
about the future, as the very birds. 

Nuremberg is noted for the manufacture of three 
articles: “Faber” lead-pencils, wooden toys, and 
pfefferJcuchen. Although the latter article is found 
in many other cities, none is considered quite so 
good as that made in the quaint old town among the 
Franconian hills. 

The city has the honor of being the birthplace 


70 WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 

of at least one supremely great man — Albrecht 
Diirer; and many shop windows are adorned with a 
variety of articles carved in ivory, commemorative 
of the artist and his works. His grave is in St. 
John’s cemetery. Following the direction of the 
old walls to the outskirts of the city, we came in 
sight of the massive gate-posts of this ancient burial- 
ground. The heavy tombstones, stained with the 
storms of many a winter, lie flat upon the ground. 
Each one, with scarcely an exception, was covered 
with a profusion of flowers, either natural or artifi¬ 
cial, sometimes with beautiful wreaths of ever¬ 
green or immortelles. We often found a touching 
tribute to the dead in the little cedar Christmas 
trees that were attached to the four corners of the 
graves, and trimmed by loving hands with paper 
angels and roses. 

Suddenly, as we stood there, the bell began toll¬ 
ing for a funeral. Entering the little chapel near 
by to make inquiries, we came unexpectedly upon a 
scene that almost made us shudder. We were in 
the u dead house”; and in the room beyond lay 
two corpses, with richly-mounted coffins beside 
them. In the lifeless hands was placed the bell- 
wire ; and on the morrow, if they should not waken, 
the remains would be interred, to make room for 
others. We had often read of this strange custom, 
but never before felt its ghastly reality. The 


NUREMBERG TEE ANCIENT. 77 

chambers admit the broad daylight; the watchmen 
walk about with unhushed tread, and speak with 
unbated breath. Once the old janitor passed 
through, with a steaming bowl of soup in his hand — 
stopping a moment to glance at the face of death. 

The tomb of Albrecht Dtirer is very simple, and 
one among the few in the cemetery that is not 
embellished with a small statue of his u Christ on 
the Cross.” 

The museum of old relics is full of interest to the 
antiquarian. Here, in endless variety, are house¬ 
hold utensils, furniture, and works of art, col¬ 
lected from castle, church, and convent. But most 
astonishing of all are the stately stoves, that must 
have been modelled after Indian pagodas. They 
are highly ornamented, and invariably contain a 
niche at the back where the baby, after being 
comfortably buttoned up in a cotton-bag, is laid 
for his morning nap. 

Nuremberg is in size the second city in Bavaria^ 
and claims a hundred thousand inhabitants. Per¬ 
haps the crowning oddity of this far-famed town 
is its august ruler — a descendant of the Maximil¬ 
ians, of whom his subjects say: “As a citizen , 
he would be called insane; but as the King , he is 
simply eccentric.” 


CHAPTEK X. 


ROME. 


E arrived in Rome at tlie height of “the 



y y season,” and found the city alive with 
tourists. We met them everywhere — on the pin¬ 
nacle of St. Peter’s and in the cells of the Cata¬ 
combs ; always carrying the red-covered “Baede¬ 
ker”— rather an unromantic companion for a quiet 
stroll through the ruins of the Forum or Coliseum. 
Their peculiar characteristics made it easy to dis¬ 
tinguish the different nationalities. The English 
were marked by self-conscious dignity ; the French, 
by incessant chatter ; the Germans, by their fresh 
open faces; and the Americans by their stylish 
outfit and lavish expenditure. 

We reached the city at six in the morning. All 
that long January night we had sat in the cars, 
bundled in shawls, with our feet on the hot-boxes, 
vainly trying to keep warm. As the omnibus rat¬ 
tled along the winding streets to the hotel, we 
peered shiveringly out of the window, wondering if 
this could indeed be Italy, the land of sunshine 
and warmth; yet there were the leaves on the 
trees and the playing fountains. 


78 


ROME. 


79 


After a rest of several hours, we awoke with a 
blaze of yellow light streaming full in our faces. 
The sunshine was glorious. We ran to our window 
and looked down on the hilly street below, lined 
w T ith braying donkeys and soft-eyed Italian peasants. 
“Oh, how lovely!” we cried delightedly; for, dear 
as other places were to us, Rome was the city of our 
dreams. 

After a few days we took apartments in a “pal¬ 
ace ” near the sparkling waters of the Trevi foun¬ 
tain. In Rome everybody lives in a palace, or 
“ palazzo ”—-the dignified title applied to the grim 
mansions which are sometimes large enough to ac¬ 
commodate a dozen or more families. Climbing four 
fiiglits of stone stairs, we stood at the door of our 
pleasant parlor, which was flooded with sunshine 
and full of the sweet pure air one gets in Rome only 
in the upper stories. 

“Be sure and make your contract in black and 
white,” warned friends, who had lived twelve years 
in Italy; “you cannot trust the Italians.” 

So everything was put on paper: first, a certain 
number of francs per month for the rooms; then a 
long list of extras — fire, light, washing, even the 
laundering of the towels. Just opposite the iron 
beds, adorned at head and foot with colored pictures 
of pretty Italian boys, was the stone fireplace. We 
had chosen the room, partly for this accessory, and 


80 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE . 


deposited in Signora’s kitchen a box of wood and 
another of kindling, but we rarely had a fire. Even 
after we would light one, such constant application 
of the bellows was needed to keep it alive that we 
preferred to warm ourselves in the outdoor sun. 
The Italians use braziers, but are generally averse to 
fires of any kind. The grave and dignified Signora 
and laughing black-eyed Signorina were very kind, 
and extremely neat — for Italians. Our rooms were 
kept attractive and orderly. The family were honest 
in their way, but we were advised to keep all our 
smaller articles locked up. One day when we came 
in from a walk, L. missed her ulster. Happening at 
that minute to glance out of the window, we saw 
Signorina arrayed in the identical garment, uncon¬ 
cernedly promenading to and fro. She presently 
came in and gave it back to us, but apparently with¬ 
out the least idea that she had taken any undue 
liberty. 

We had our dinners sent in from a restaurant, 
after the Italian fashion. At the hour appointed, a 
knock was heard at the door. Opening it, there stood 
a tall black-haired Italian, with a large tin box poised 
on his bare head. Stepping into the room, with a 
silent courtesy he set it on the floor and departed. 
We lifted the lid, thinking there must be a supply 
for an army. Inside were two compartments, sepa¬ 
rated by a partition. In the upper one were placed 


ROUE. 


SI 


the covered dishes—four, five, or six, according to 
the number we had ordered; and underneath was a 
little pan of hot coals to keep them warm. The 
next day the waiter came with a new box and carried 
away the old. We paid weekly at the restaurant, 
with a small fee to the carrier. 

From one of our windows we looked far down 
into a winding, crooked little street below, without 
sidewalks, and always filled with a noisy, animated 
throng. How often, in the twilight, we watched the 
merry gambols of the children! How we pitied the 
patient donkeys, trudging meekly along under their 
heavy burdens, or laughed at the light-hearted girl 
who poised on her head the basket in which was 
seated a crowing baby; or, casting our eyes upward, 
vaguely wondered why the lamp was not burning in 
front of the little shrine on the corner of the house 
opposite, or tried to count the tiles on the roofs, that 
resembled flower-pots laid on their side and placed 
one within the other. 

Once, a funeral procession passed by. There 
was a band of monks, dressed in yellow gowns and 
hoods, devoutly intoning their Latin prayers, fol¬ 
lowed by various orders of priests carrying lighted 
candles, and surrounding the bier, which v/as covered 
with a rich black velvet mantle embroidered with 
gold and adorned with pictures of skulls and cross- 
bones. 


6 


82 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


One of our favorite resorts in Rome was the Fo¬ 
rum. Its broad area is quite open, and the morning 
sun fell unobstructed upon the unsheltered pave¬ 
ment. How it lit up the old worn stones, and 
wreathed about the columns, and danced in and out 
among the shadowy places ! Only those that lay 
deepest in the shadows were untouched by it some¬ 
time during the day. We used to lean over the light 
balustrade that separated the road above from the 
ruins, and look dreamily down upon the white pave¬ 
ment, away to the spot where Cicero thrilled Rome 
with his eloquence, and where Caesar, Pompey and 
Cataline walked, till those stern old Romans in their 
flowing togas seemed to waken into life before our 
eyes. 

As the sun grew warmer, little green lizards crept 
out from between the damp stones, and dainty wild- 
flowers lifted up their glad faces to cheer us. All 
around on the steps of ruined temples and old 
churches, lounged groups of lazy Italians, dressed 
in gay native costumes and earning a scanty liveli¬ 
hood by sitting as models for artists. The Italians 
are proverbially fond of the sunshine, and whole 
families will camp, day after day, in some sunny 
spot, eating, sleeping, or doing coarse embroidery on 
woollen cloth. 

The Forum lies in the centre of old Rome, only a 
few minutes walk from the Coliseum, beyond the 


ROME. 


83 


Arch of Titus, and still nearer to the palace of the 
Caesars on the Palatine. St. Peter’s and the Vati¬ 
can are in an opposite direction — across the Tiber. 
The first time we visited the Vatican, the people 
were just dispersing after one of the Pope’s recep¬ 
tions. Scarlet robed cardinals rolled away in their 
closed coaches, and ladies in black dresses and 
veils — for no woman can see His Holiness unless in 
this attire — crowded down the stair-cases. TV T hen 
the way was clear, we hurried by the Swiss guards 
and up the marble steps to the picture galleries ; 
but had scarcely entered the Raphael Stanze when 
an officer hurried us excitedly back into the hall 
and shut the door. Recovering from our fright 
sufficiently to peer through the key-hole, we caught 
a glimpse of that august dignitary, the pope himself, 
robed in crimson velvet, as he was carried in his 
pontifical cfyair through the hall by his attendants. 

Our three chosen haunts in the Vatican were 
the Raphael Stanze — the room containing the 
Transfiguration and Last Sacrament of St. Jerome 
— and the Sistine Chapel. But art study is weary- 
ing, if it is delightful. Many a long hour we sat 
in front of the “ Last Judgment,’’ before its half 
obliterated confusion of figures arranged themselves 
in satisfactory order. The ceiling frescoes were 
even worse. It was amusing to watch the different 
attitudes people assumed for the purpose of seeing 


84 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


them to the best advantage. Some placed a small 
cushion on the round of the seat behind them, and 
rested their necks upon that, while they looked up. 
Others lay down upon the seat, or walked over the 
floor, relieving their position by viewing the frescoes 
from different standpoints. 

Once the silence in the Chapel was broken by 
the door opening, and a noisy crowd of tourists 
rushing in, led by a bustling little French guide. 
The man was panting for breath ; but without stop¬ 
ping to recover himself, began at once: 

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the Sistine 
Chapel. Here you will find, if you observe, the 
‘Last Judgment’ of Michael Angelo, a magnificent 
production. Above your heads are the ceiling fres¬ 
coes. I will name them,”—and away he rattled 
through the entire list, then turned to the wall paint¬ 
ings, which were disposed of with equal alacrity. 

“Now, ladies and gentlemen,” he concluded, 
“we will pass on”; and he disappeared through the 
door, followed by his whole company. They had 
hardly been in the room ten minutes. 

But the Vatican does not possess all the art 
treasures of Rome. They are scattered everywhere 
through the city, and many a long search we h?d 
up and down the crooked streets to find some old 
church, where, in a dark side chapel, behind a 
dingy curtain, some small gem of art was hidden 


ROME. 


85 


away. Each church claims at least one relic which 
it guards with jealous care. 

In the Rospigliosi palace on the Quirinal is Guido 
Reni’s “Aurora.” No painting in Rome surprised 
and entranced us more. There is something inde¬ 
scribably lovely in the harmony of its delicate ethereal 
tints. More than any other picture, the “ Aurora” 
seems to need color to give it the true effect; and 
after seeing the original, the engravings look life¬ 
less. The contrast between the deep blue of the 
water, veiled by the shadow that overspreads the 
land, and the radiant company above — the glowing 
Phoebus in his gold-tinted chariot, the yellow flame 
from the torch in the cherub’s hand, the purplish 
clouds, and the many-hued garments of Aurora, as 
she drops her bright flowers on the earth,— make a 
combination of beautiful effects one must see to 
appreciate. 

Guido Reni’s “St. Michael,” so much admired 
and criticised, hangs in the obscure church of St. 
Maria della Concezione. After we had seen this 
picture, one of the monks from the adjoining abbey 
showed us the burial-ground of his order. It con¬ 
sists of four half-subterranean chambers, whose 
walls are decorated, in the most fanciful and pro¬ 
fuse manner, with human bones. Many little chapels 
are built entirely of skulls, and standing just within 
the entrance of each is the skeleton of a monk in 


86 


WE TWO A LOWE IE EUROPE. 


his gown and cowl. The chambers are so full that 
when a monk dies, the oldest skeleton must be 
removed to make a place for him ; but it is consid¬ 
ered a great honor to be buried here, for all the 
dust sprinkled over the graves is brought from 
“holy Jerusalem/’ 

When we first lifted aside the heavy leathern 
curtain within the walls of St. Peter's, we had a 
feeling of disappointment; but as we wandered 
under its lofty arches and lost ourselves in the maze 
of its aisles and chapels, the wondrous cathedral 
became to us, what it really is, the grandest in the 
world. A walk around its outside walls gave us 
the best idea of its vast area, and a hot climb one 
morning to the very heart of the brazen ball was 
conclusive evidence of its enormous height. 

There is nothing gloomy about St. Peter’s. It is 
light and cheerful, with no dingy curtains, tawdry 
finery, and cob webbed corners, to mar the effect of 
its white marbles, mosaics, and sculptures. From 
some one of the side chapels we could always catch 
the sound of worship, whose intonations mingled with 
the echoing footfalls of the people over the marble 
floor. 

Some faces grew very familiar to us, for we saw 
them every time we visited the church. One old 
woman in particular, worn and wrinkled, with, evi¬ 
dently, but a few years of life left her, had a favorite 


ROME. 


87 


corner where she would crouch on the cold marble, 
and count her beads by the hour, while the warm 
tears rolled down her cheeks. 

Once, on a holy-day, we witnessed a grand proces¬ 
sion here. From the various chapels came a large 
company of priests and choir-boys, all robed in their 
gay festival gowns, white, purple, scarlet, profusely 
adorned with gilt and lace. They formed in line — 
first, three priests bearing aloft large golden lamps, 
followed by eight men with a huge picture. Then 
came a company of little boys carrying banners ; 
after these, a poor man bowed under the weight 
of a heavy oaken cross entwined with evergreens ; 
then another man bearing an image of Christ on the 
cross ; and a long procession of priests and boys, in 
whose midst walked the corpulent bishops, under a 
faded canopy elevated by eight men. As the pro¬ 
cession slowly made the round of the church, chant¬ 
ing their Latin prayers, all good Catholics dropped 
on their knees. 

One of the most remarkable places in Rome is 
the famous quarter of the Jews — or, as it is usually 
called, the “Ghetto,” from a Hebrew word signifying 
“abandoned.” It is only since the early years of 
the reign of Pius IX. that the walls of the Ghetto 
have been thrown down, and its inhabitants released 
from the oppressive laws that so long constrained 
them. It is said the Pope first expressed his kindly 


88 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


feeling toward this race by giving alms to a mendi¬ 
cant. When some one exclaimed, “He is a Jew! ” 
the reply was, 44 What does that matter? he is a 

man .” 

The Jewish population is estimated at thirty- 
eight hundred, but the space covered by their dwell¬ 
ings is less in size than that occupied by a small 
town of six hundred inhabitants. It is like entering 
a new world to step within the boundary of these 
contracted precincts. The people sit out-of-doors, 
busily sewing or culling their dingy wares, of which 
they have collected an inexhaustible variety ; for 
almost everything can be bought here, from a brazen 
kettle to a Turkish rug. The Ghetto claims now its 
own schools and synagogues, and the cardinal Yicar 
of the Inquisition is its chief magistrate. 

The most popular resort in Rome is Pincian Hill. 
The road that leads, with gradual ascent, to the 
summit, is lined on one side with a luxuriant growth 
of giant cacti, mimosas, and stately Cyprus trees, 
while on the other we look down on fragrant beds 
of pansies, mignonette, and pretty house-top gar¬ 
dens. It was one of those rare afternoons peculiar 
to Italy, when we first wound our way over the 
smooth path to the gravelled terrace. What a 
magnificent prospect was spread out before us! 
Just below, in the Piazza del Popolo, was the 
spot where Hero is said to be buried ; and in the 


ROME. 


SO 


centre of the square stood one of the seven obelisks 
in the city, placed there by Sixtus V., in the year 
1589. Away on the right stretched the green Cam- 
pagna ; while directly in front of us, towering above 
the surrounding buildings, was the castle of St. 
Angelo, surmounted by a brazen angel. Still 
beyond rose the glistening dome of St. Peter’s — 

4 ‘the grandest edifice ever built by man, painted 
against God's loveliest sky.” A little to the left, 
the Tiber pursued its circuitous course ; and behind 
the Capitoline hill, on the south, lay the ruins of 
ancient Pome. The terrace itself was the scene of 
the gayest excitement. Handsome carriages in full * 
livery rolled up the broad avenue ; while the band, 
seated under the great palm-tree in the beautiful 
gardens, once the site of the favorite villa of 
Lucullus, played the liveliest airs. 

At last the western sun went down behind the 
Ostian hills. From many a tower the vesper bells 
were ringing, and the crowds began to disperse. As 
we slowly retraced our steps homeward, we peeped 
for a moment in the church of Trinita de' Monti. A 
flood of light streamed into the chapel, as we lifted 
aside the leathern curtain and passed up the shadowy 
aisle. Behind the chancel railing, many young 
scholars, in long white vails, were kneeling in 
prayer. Suddenly, in the quiet hush, a voice broke 
forth in song, so sweet, so tender, it seemed like an 


90 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


angel’s. We looked for the singer; but she was 
hidden from our sight. Stronger and clearer swelled 
the notes, c,s the priest swung to and fro the incense, 
and the nuns softly chanted the responses. As the 
last note died away, we again sought the open air. 
Companies of young abbots, in priestly costumes, and 
chatting pleasantly, hastened by us on their way to 
the abbey. The dark-eyed Italian boys gathered 
r.p their few remaining oranges, the soft twilight 
slowly deepened into night, and soon “the eternal 
city” was wrapped in quiet slumber. 

“Rome goes mad during the Carnival,” is a 
saying among the Italians. When we reached 
the city, signs of the approaching festivities were 
everywhere visible. The Corso was the principal 
scene of action. This street — the Via Flaminia 
of ancient times — although so narrow, is the finest 
in Rome, running from north to south nearly a mile. 
It is lined with splendid stores, whose tall fronts are 
studded with innumerable balconies, which were gaily 
trimmed in every conceivable style, each proprietor 
seeking to outrival his neighbor, as a prize was award¬ 
ed for the building most handsomely decorated. 
A favorite fashion was to loop the drapery with 
marguerites, in honor of the queen. Temporary 
stands were erected at different points along the 
way, where spectators could hire sittings, sometimes 


ROME. 


91 


paying five dollars for a single afternoon. The 
Italian lady wlio repeated to us the story that a 
thousand dollars were once given for the use of a 
balcony during the season, laughingly added: “It 
must have been an American who did it; our 
people would never have paid so much.” 

The opening of Carnival, the tenth of February, 
was publicly announced by the clanging of the great 
bell in the tower of the Capitol, which is never 
rung but on one other occasion — the death of a 
Pope. The crowds began to gather at two o’clock 
each afternoon, and the excitement culminated in a 
grand masquerade ball in the evening, continuing 
till early dawn. It required some courage to prom¬ 
enade on the Corso during the first few days, as one 
was sure to be mercilessly pelted with confetti , with 
which all who actively engaged in the fun were lib¬ 
erally supplied. These tiny lime-balls were rained 
down upon us from every quarter, bleaching our 
clothes, and stinging smartly when coming in con¬ 
tact with the face. A few curious ones ventured out 
in carriages,— safely enveloped, however, in wire 
screens and rubber water-proofs. Our attention was 
arrested by one conspicuous stand over which floated 
proudly the “stars and stripes.” This little fort 
was nobly defended by a band of American youths, 
whose active service was worthy of all admiration. 

On Thursday, the throwing of confetti was for- 


92 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


bidden, and flowers and bon-bons took their place. 
Pretty Italian maidens, in festal costumes, appeared 
on the balconies, and elegant equipages filled the 
street, which was just wide enough to comfortably 
admit two rows moving in opposite directions. 
Many of the harnesses and carriages were trimmed 
with roses and evergreens, while the fair occupants, 
in dainty evening silks, reclined airily upon the soft 
cushions. High above the surrounding multitude, 
rose tall poles, trimmed with strips of gaily colored 
ribbons, and holding gorgeous bouquets exposed for 
sale. 

The masqueraders were out en masse , attired in 
every conceivable costume. Turks, sailors, gypsies, 
nuns, clowns, devils, ad infinitum , passed before us 

in picturesque array. Even the children joined in 

# 

the frolic, and grotesque enough appeared those 
infantile counts and countesses, in powdered wigs 
and sweeping trains. No one needed to be 
alarmed if he were suddenly surrounded and play¬ 
fully attacked by one of these merry bands, for it was 
one of the many privileges allowed during this fes¬ 
tive season. The groups of masquers were some¬ 
times very happy and original in the choice of 
subjects. Dignified gentlemen, holding in their 
hands octavo volumes, and seated in a lofty chariot 
of red and gold, personated the cabinet officers ; 
and very good caricatures they were. A wildly- 


ROME. 


93 


gesticulating company in the vehicle drawn by four 
horses, represented a band of travelling musicians, 
their peculiar metal drums, b}^ some mysterious 
agency promenading before our eyes, being borne on 
the heads of other masquers. 

The grand illumination took place in the evening, 
on Via Xazionale. This is the broadest and most 
modern thoroughfare in the city. Spanning the street, 
and high enough to produce a fine effect, were sus¬ 
pended at short intervals semi-circular iron hoops. 
At one end of the long avenue rose the star of Italy, 
and at the other the coat-of-arms of the reigning 
house of Savoy. At eight o'clock, when the whole 
street suddenly became a blaze of light, the effect 
was indescribably brilliant. 

On the following Tuesday, the last day of Carni¬ 
val, the excitement reached its height. In the early 
afternoon, as usual, bouquets were thrown — or 
“brooms,” as a mischievous maiden called them, 
although many of them were really very beautiful. 
At four o’clock, warning was given, by the firing of 
cannon, to prepare the street for a horse-race. For¬ 
merly the steeds required for this purpose were pro¬ 
vided by the Jews, and in still earlier times these 
despised people w r ere themselves obliged to run for 
the amusement of the populace. A dozen horses, 
wearing brass saddles studded with pins to irritate 
and so increase the speed of the already excited 


94 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


animals, started from the Piazza del Popolo, and 
dashed to the other end of the Corso, where their 
course was arrested by the intervention of thick 
blankets. One of the horses, impelled by a sudden 
freak, flew down a side street opposite the balcony 
occupied by the royal family, killing three persons 
and injuring several others. The tender-hearted 
queen was much affected by the sad accident; and 
the king w T ent to the hospital where the wounded 
were carried, to see that everything was done for 
their comfort. 

At six o’clock began the illumination of the 
u moccoletti,” or candles — a merry game, in which 
old and young engaged with great zest. Each one 
tried to extinguish the light of his neighbor, and all 
were expected to preserve their good humor, no 
matter how unsuccessful they might be in protecting 
their flickering flames from the missiles hurled upon 
them from every quarter. 

An hour later, all the masqueraders formed 
in line, and, carrying fancifully colored lanterns, 
marched the whole length of the Corso, whose walks 
were fairly alive with spectators. This splendid 
procession was the climax of the entire round of 
pleasure. Many of the designs displayed in the 
groups of lanterns were both elaborate and beau¬ 
tiful. There was a perfect model of one of the 
seven Egyptian obelisks in Rome, and an entire 


ROME. 


95 


cafe on wheels, followed by different animals, all 
life-size, and many other similar displays. The 
day closed with the fine illumination of Pincian Hill, 
and a midnight ball. 


CHAPTER Xi 


NAPLES AN1) VESUVIUS. 


■\TAPLES has the reputation of being the largest 
^ and dirtiest city in Italy, though we doubt the 
justness of the latter epithet. The rows of tall grim 
tenement houses along the wharves are far from 
fascinating. Their flat roofs have a mutilated ap¬ 
pearance, as if in the course of human events the 
topmost story had been sliced off, and annexed else¬ 
where in the shape of an excrescent portico or wing. 

The street-life of this southern city is its most 
interesting feature. The broad thoroughfares are 
thronged by a motley crowd of men, donkeys, and 
dogs, whose sole aim seems to be to slip through life 
in as easy a manner as possible. Everybody lives 
out of doors, where we saw people spinning, eating, 
trading, sporting, etc. The good housewife sat just 
outside the door of her begrimed mansion, gaylj 
attired in a bewildering costume of petticoat, white 
waist, embroidered bodice, corals, chains, head- 
gear, and sashes, while she chatted pleasantly with 
her next-door neighbor, or sniffed the odor from the 
endless strings of macaroni hung up to dry ot? a 
rude frame of olive branches. 

9G 


NAPLES AND VESUVIUS. 


97 


A bright Wednesday in April was set apart for 
our trip to Vesuvius. Although our friends from 
Rome had not arrived, we dared not delay longer ; 
and as one of Cook’s agents had just made ar¬ 
rangements for a trip, we joined his party. 

The long lines of silver-gray, skirting the eastern 
sky of early morn, promised delightful weather. At 
nine o'clock the carriage was ready, and soon we 
were skimming rapidly over the road toward the 
distant mountain. Leaving the city, with its din 
and bustle, we soon reached the base of Vesuvius 
and began a gradual ascent. Troubles now thick¬ 
ened around us, in the form of crowds of beggars, 
who, like the lepers outside the gates of Jerusalem, 
follow the stranger, pitiably displaying their infirm¬ 
ities. Our hearts were greatly touched, until we 
observed a roguish urchin slyly playing a tattoo 
upon the enormous hump of a strong-looking man, 
when suddenly the scales fell from our eyes. 

The children offered for sale fragrant bunches of 
orange blossoms and wild flowers, but we preferred 
to gather them for ourselves, and while the horses 
rested a few minutes, we scrambled up the slippery 
bank, and filled our hands with clusters of the bright 
red and yellow posies. 

The broad landscape below and around us was 

smiling with the verdure of early spring, while the 

orchards scattered over the green slopes of Vesu- 
7 


98 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


vius were radiant with clouds of delicately-tinted 

blossoms. 

A band of musicians followed the carriage lor 
some distance, playing very sweetly. We asked for 
“Santa Lucia,” and, much to our surprise, they 
understood our request, and sang the song with 
great heartiness. 

“0 Naples — fairest one, 

Nature’s own realm is thine.” 

Very appropriate seemed the words just then, with 
Naples lying far below, her green shores lapped 
by the waters of the bay that sparkled like gems 
under the glowing rays of a meridian sun. As we 
ascended higher and higher, the vegetation grew 
less luxuriant, and we came at last to the immense 
lava beds that are spread like an unsightly mask 
over the cone of the mountain. 

What a marvellous picture ! Yet each pair of 
eyes saw reflected there a different likeness. To 
one, it appeared a conglomerate sea of serpents 
intercoiled. Another likened it to the fossilized 
remains of huge beasts and marine animals; while a 
third beheld there only a bit of the infernal regions. 

Slowly we wound up the mountain path — pass¬ 
ing now a quiet convent erected on a foundation of 
lava, and now a little whitewashed chapel contain¬ 
ing in a niche in front an image of the Virgin, at 
sight of which our driver reverently removed his 


NAPLES AND VESUVIUS . 


99 


liat. Finally the plateau was reached, from which 
starts the elevated railway. We were still many 
feet from the summit of Vesuvius, and the ascent 
was frightfully steep, almost perpendicular it seemed 
from our point of view. But we had not long to 
consider the danger, for the brakesman called our 
numbers, and “taking our lives in our hands,” we 
rushed to our seats in the train. 

The wire-rope railway, completed in 1880 , is con¬ 
structed on the principle of the pulley, the greater 
part of the machinery being below, at the starting- 
point. There are two single tracks, and two cars 
with open sides. Each accommodates twelve pas¬ 
sengers, and the two ascend and descend alternately. 
Underneath each carriage are two small iron wheels 
that lit snugly to either side of the rail, thus render¬ 
ing the progress more uniform, and increasing the 
security. The brakes are also sufficiently strong to 
bring the cars to a stand-still in an emergency. 

As we glanced up the dizzy height, our courage 
began to fail. “Worse than Bighi ! ” exclaimed 
one. A stout German lady was with difficulty lifted 
to a seat, when she immediately sank back, with a 
shudder, and closed her eyes. We rapidly as¬ 
cended the steep grade, and soon the people watch¬ 
ing us from below appeared like mere specks. In 
seven minutes we reached the tip-top station, and 
once more planted our feet on terra-firma. 


) 


100 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


A clamorous French guide led the way up a 
slippery path, composed of slag and ashes, to the 
old crater, a hundred yards away. Its vast floor, 
sunk but a little below the surrounding surface, 
was composed of huge rocks, irregularly piled to¬ 
gether. Their surface was a bright yellow, from a 
thick coating of sulphur, while from between their 
crevices ascended slight puffs of steam and sulphur¬ 
ous fumes. 

Picking our wa} 7 cautiously over the hot stones, 
and ascending a ridge, we found ourselves upon the 
brink of the new crater — sometimes called the 
Forge of Vulcan — which was opened in 1872. This 
immense safety-valve was belching forth, at inter¬ 
vals, and to a great height, immense volumes of 
steam, together with large quantities of stones, many 
of them of great size. The smoke was more or less 
dark, according to the amount of ashes mingled 
with it. Loud rumblings, like distant artillery, 
thunder, and flashes of lightning, ending often in 
a startling explosion, accompanied each eruption. 
The eruptions are said to be caused by the waters 
of the sea mingling underground with the fires in 
the heart of the mountain, and forming quantities 
of vapor, which find escape through the crater. 

Having remained long enough to fill our eyes 
and lungs with particles of fine dust and suffocating 
sulphurous fumes, we began a partial descent on the 



( 

c 


NAPLES AND VESUVIUS. 


101 


opposite side. The ashes were so soft that, by bal¬ 
ancing our weight on our heels, we were able to 
slide down in the most delightful manner. 

“ Remember, you will have to climb up again! ” 
warned a voice behind us ; and we were still more 
forcibly reminded of the fact by seeing a dear old 
lady just below us, panting and puffing wearily on 
her way up hill. 

Suddenly the guide stopped, and pointing to the 
base of the cone, asked if we discerned three red 
streams. All made them out distinctly. Then, 
stepping down upon the pavement of lava, we were 
told to look through a circular opening several feet 
in circumference. There was no uncertainty this 
time — for just below our eyes was abroad stream 
of molten lava, fiery-red, rapidly pursuing its down¬ 
ward course. Many smaller openings were discov¬ 
ered in the vicinity. The guide placed the end of 
his walking-stick just inside one of these wells, to 
show us how the hot air would scorch it. L. 
thought she would try the experiment with her 
umbrella, but exposed it a minute too long, and in 
an instant the alpaca was in a blaze. The flame 
was soon extinguished and the fright over, L. de¬ 
claring she would keep the wreck as a souvenir of 
her adventure. 

In the meantime, one of our party, who had 
been sounding the platform upon which we stood, 


102 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


announced his conviction that it was but a thin 
crust over a sea of lava. With a bound, we planted 
our feet on more solid earth, not caring to be cast 
into such a tierv furnace. 

%j 

Ascending to the summit of the bluff near 
*>y, we were rewarded by a fine view of the sur¬ 
rounding country. Pompeii, with Herculaneum 
beyond, lay on our left; a little to the right were 
Sorrento and Capri ; and on the other side was 
Naples, stretching far along the shores of the bay. 

Returning to the station, we once more took our 
seats in the car and began the descent. As we 
neared the platform below, two singular dust-colored 
objects, a few rods away, attracted our attention. 
On closer observation they resolved themselves 
into human beings — a worthy couple, who, prob¬ 
ably unnerved by tlieir ascent in the car, were de¬ 
scending on foot through the soft ashes, weary and 
tattered, but safe! 

Just as the last rays of the setting sun were 
lighting up the western sky and shedding a soft 
radiance over sea and land, our carriage rolled 
through the streets of Naples and left us at the 
door of our hotel. Madame pointed, with down¬ 
cast countenance, to her gown, badly scorched 
around the bottom; and we ruefully remembered 
our ruined shoes and sunburnt faces. But these 
were trifles. We had seen Vesuvius! 


CHAPTER XII. 


SUMMER IN THE ICY NORTH. 

O to Norway? Two girls, and alone! Who 



ever heard of such a thing ? And we laughed 
at the mere suggestion. That was in Rome ; yet 
three months later found us safely quartered in 
Christiania. 

There had intervened long dreamy hours under 
Italian skies, and, when the soft Spring winds began 
to blow, a charming ride around the beautiful Riv¬ 
iera; with pleasant days at Nice and Cannes, and 
at last the railway ride, through clover-beds and 
avenues of poplars, back to Paris — our central 
point, where we returned to equip and provide for 
a fresh start. 

We enjoyed a delightful saunter through the 
Netherlands, with their low meadows lying green 
and inviting under the yellow sunshine; and then, 
bidding good-by to the “City of the Rooks,” we 
swept across the moors of Northern Germany, 
bridged the Categat in a pretty Danish steamer, 
and, the second night from Amsterdam, slept at the 
Grand Hotel in Copenhagen. 

Bustling, wide-awake Copenhagen — rich in mem- 


103 


104 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


ories of loving Hans Andersen and the divinely- 
gifted Thorwaldsen — detained us only long enough 
for a glimpse of its shady avenues, fine squares 
and museums, and tall kindly-faced people: for we 
expected to return that way. It was a cool June 
morning when we stood on the crowded wharf, 
waiting to take the steamer for Christiania. A 
proud vessel she proved, with flags streaming, spa¬ 
cious cabin glittering with cut glass and silver, and 
stewards in swallow-tailed coats flying hither and 
thither. Could this be the rude barge we had 
vaguely pictured as conveying us across these 
northern seas? 

Presently the passengers began to come on board 
— gay bevies of English and Americans, stylishly 
attired, settling themselves in their sea-chairs, as if 
for a pleasant sail on the St. Lawrence or the Rhine. 
Slowly we steamed out of the harbor immortalized 
by Nelson’s naval victory, past the sloping shore 
where Hamlet lived — though not a vestige of his 
father’s ghost would our glasses reveal,— and thence 
out into the broad German Ocean. 

As the day wore on, the passengers gathered in 
little knots about the deck, chatting and discussing 
plans. Some were going to Russia; others, to a 
mountain in Sweden where the midnight sun can be 
seen at the summer solstice; L. and I, alone to the 
North Cape. Cautious men and timid women looked 


SUMMER IN TIIE ICY NORTH. 


105 


incredulous. u Don't try it — it’s a risky undertaking; 
you’ll be sick enough of it before you get back,” 
cried one and another. But we had gone too far, 
and would not be dissuaded. 

This sea, often so treacherous, was now calm and 
smiling as a river. Toward evening we touched at 
Gothenburg, on the Swedish coast; and next morn¬ 
ing our ship -was moored to the dock in Christiania. 
Here was a surprise. The Norwegian capital was 
neither shivering from icebergs nor peopled by 
polar bears. It had marts and factories, a palace 
and a university, and boasted twenty millionaires 
wdio own each a million kroner — one krone being 
twenty-seven cents of our money. Its fine stores, 
banks, hotels, and street-cars, gave it a truly metro¬ 
politan air. In the eastern quarter of the city live 
the aristocracy, their pleasant houses adorned with 
cupolas, turrets, and balconies. 

But Christiania is individual; and linked with its 
thrift is a certain quaint, unworldly-wise air, quite 
delightful to meet. Many a quiet little street pur¬ 
sues its orderly undeviating way between rows of 
pine cottages, looking primly down on the rough 
cobble-stone pavement. Their dull brown or yel¬ 
low walls set off all the better the pots of bright 
blossoms lining nearly every narrow window-ledge; 
while flaxen-liaired children, with school-satchels 


106 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


on their arms, hurry along the road or play about 

% 

the doors. 

“Slow and sure,” seemed the universal motto — 
from the little notion-store on the corner, over whose 
doorway appeared each day at noon a bit of paper 
scratched with the words “Closed for dinner from 
12 to 2,” to the handsome down-town bank, where 
the clerk took ten minutes to do what a New York 
teller would have whisked off in three. We inquired 
for home letters. The gentleman in charge went to 
a heavy safe, and, unlocking it, brought from its hid¬ 
den depths a tin box. Unlocking this, he produced 
a package of mail carefully secured with a string. 
The covering was removed, and the package laid on 
the table. Now began the solid work. Each letter 
was in turn raised deliberately from the pile, held to 
the light for closer scrutiny, and the name pro¬ 
nounced aloud, while we waited impatiently, won¬ 
dering when the end would be. 

The jewelry stores made attractive displays of 
exquisite work in silver filigree. Ornaments in 
silver and gilt, rare and curious wedding crowns, 
chains, rings and bracelets, are purchased from the 
peasants in the interior and sold at high prices. 
These treasures are handed down through many 
generations as venerated heirlooms, and only parted 
with in extreme poverty. 

In the town-square, in which stands an equestrian 


SUMMER IN THE ICY NORTH. 


107 


statue of some Norse dignitary, a bevy of market- 
women gather every morning. With their light cot¬ 
ton handkerchiefs tied snugly under their chins, they 
bob briskly about, piling the vegetables on the ground 
at their feet, and arranging on the barrel-heads in 
front of them tempting pyramids of wild strawber¬ 
ries on fresh green leaves or in neat little baskets of 
birch bark. Strawberries were the only cheap and 
abundant fruit we saw. 

When the country fair is held, the whole square 
is astir with a busy and bustling crowd. The booths 
are stocked with cheap odds and ends in profuse 
variety. The restaurant tables offer a curious 
bill of fare, with their jlad-brod and black bread 
spread with thin layers of old cheese or sausage, 
yellow bowls of thick milk, and black meat as 
hard and tough as leather. It is said the country 
people sometimes keep dried meat for twenty years. 
Their storehouses are always raised upon stakes, to 
escape the ravages of the destructive Norway rat. 

But the chief attraction of Christiania to us was 
its home-life. Nothing could be sweeter than these 
Norwegian homes. The children are taught to be 
respectful and obedient, and are carefully educated, 
special attention being given to modern languages. 
Nearly all we met were studying English. Music 
is a favorite pastime. Norwegians have a quick ear 
and fine taste. They are very proud of their two 


108 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


great musical celebrities, Christine Nilsson and Ole 
Bull. Especially do they cherish the memory of 
Ole Bull, and the older ones never tire of recount¬ 
ing special occasions when the grand old master 
played in his native land to the inspiration of the 
lonely fjelds and mystic legends of the Norsemen. 

The people here lay great stress upon table cere¬ 
mony. One of their prettiest customs is “thanking 
for the meal.” Just before leaving the table, all 
present turn to the hostess, and, bowing, say simul¬ 
taneously, “Tak for maden ”— “Thanks for the 
meal.” Even the children are taught to say this to 
their father and mother. During one afternoon 
spent at the house of a Norwegian friend, we sat 
down to eat three times in as many hours, and after 
each repast every guest greeted the hostess with 
the customary words of thanks, though we noticed 
that no one on leaving the house made any expres¬ 
sion of thanks or pleasure. 

One sunny afternoon we took a pretty excursion- 
steamer across the fjord, winding in and out among 
the picturesque islands, to an arm of the mainland, 
where King Oscar has a summer castle. The slop¬ 
ing shores were thickly dotted with rustic pine 
cottages, airy and artistic. We strolled across 
the beautiful half-cultivated groves and gardens, 
making nosegays of the blue and yellow violets 
and delicate sweet-scented lilies-of-the-valley, which 


SUMMER IN THE ICY NORTH. 


109 


grow wild in the tall grass under the hedges. The 
castle, with its white walls and turrets, stands on a 
slight eminence overlooking Christiania and the sil- 
very-bosomed fjord. It is set in the midst of taste¬ 
fully-cultivated grounds, but, like the royal palace 
in the city, is itself plain and unadorned. On the 
walls of the dining-room are hung many of Tide- 
mand’s choicest pictures — simple peasant scenes, 
that captivated us with their rural beauty and natu¬ 
ralness. 

But the most interesting object on the grounds is 
an ancient peasant hut, found in the wilds of County 
Thelemarken, and presented to King Oscar, who 
ordered it brought here and set up in the con¬ 
dition in which it was discovered. It is built of 
rough pine logs, and contains three small rooms. 
The largest of these must have served as the living 
room, with its tiny diamond-paned windows, stone 
floor, and great fireplace. Two wide sleeping- 
bunks are built against the side of the wall, and a 
wooden shelf holds the cooking-pans and capacious 
drinking-horns whose silver-capped mouths bub¬ 
bling with old ale were presented by the host to- 
his guests as a token of hospitality — custom com¬ 
pelling the latter to drain them to the dregs. In 
the next room hang the fur garments, heavy and 
warm; and across a little passage-way is the cold 


110 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


stone kitchen, used also for housing the animals in 
winter weather. 

We reached home in time for a ten o’clock sup¬ 
per by daylight, and retired at eleven without a 
lamp. 

But Christiania was only a resting-place; our 
goal was the North Cape. The Norwegians travel 
hut little, and our friends opened their eyes in as¬ 
tonishment when they heard our plans. A map of 
Norway was brought out and laid upon the table, 
and its coast-line carefully scanned. 

“ You see how far it is,” remonstrated our intelli¬ 
gent host, running his finger along the shore to the 
Cape. “There is little to be seen; the coast is wild 
and rugged. Would it not repay you better to enjoy 
quietly some of the fine scenery about Christiania?” 

“But the midnight sun ! ” we cried. 

“One would suppose you expected to discover a 
new sun,” observed an old lady, half impatiently. 
“For my part, I am content to see the same sun 
shine at midday in Christiania.” 

Still, we held to our resolution; and when 
they found us decided, no pains were spared to aid 
us. Boutes were discussed, plans suggested, friends 
telegraphed to meet us at Trondhjem ; and when at 
last the eventful day arrived, a large 1 party of inter¬ 
ested ones gathered at the station to see us off. 
There were second and third-class coaches — the 


SUMMER IN THE ICY NORTH. 


Ill 


second-class very comfortable, with cushions and 
curtains. 

44 Have you no first-class cars ? ” we asked, when 
comfortably seated, with our hand-baggage about us. 

44 Do you mean the queen’s carriage ? ” inquired 
our friends, with some surprise. 44 Oh, no, we are 
too poor in Norway to afford them — there would be 
no one to ride in them.” 

The whistle blew, the ladies waved their hands, 
while the gentlemen, with true Norwegian courtesy, 
bared their heads and bowed low with a deferential 
* 4 Adieu — adieu ! ” 

Away we sped, not 44 on eagles’ wings,” but 
slowly and steadily. Two days would take us to 
Trondhjem — a coast city three hundred and fifty 
miles from Christiania — where we would connect 
with the steamer for the North Cape. The trains 
do not run at night, 44 for,'’ as a Norse friend ex¬ 
plained, 44 there was an accident once, and since then 
it has not been considered safe.” 

Some tourists go the entire distance by water; 
but it is a tedious two weeks’ sail from Christiania 
to Trondhjem, over a sea often very rough in bad 
weather,— and, besides, one misses the varied 
scenery which the land travel affords. 

Trondhjem lies on the northern side of a cluster of 
gently-sloping mountains, which on our first day we 
gradually ascended. The scenery was characteristic. 


112 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


There were occasional glimpses of rapid streams, 
while lovely lakes embosomed in the heart of the 
hills delighted us with their rare and unexpected 
beauty. Then came long stretches of unbroken pine 
forest, dark and gloomy, with a few graceful birch 
trees here and there ; and still higher up the fjeld 
were the fir and mountain ash. The grand old pine 
forests are gradually failing. The trees have been cut 
down so rapidly of late that the new growth has 
not had time to supply the waste. In the clearings 
were scattered the gray and weather-beaten cottages 
of the peasants. A curl of smoke wreathing the 
rude stone chimney which rose just above the low 
turf roof, and the light-haired wondering-eyed chil¬ 
dren gazing after us, were the only signs of life. 
At the side of each cottage was the round stone well- 
curb, almost as large as the house itself, with the 
bucket hanging over its mouth, suspended from the 
long sweep. 

Norwegian peasants, away from the coast, de¬ 
pend for support chiefly on their dairies ; but always 
around their humble homes is a bit of garden and a 
few strips of cultivated ground. These must yield 
a scanty harvest, for the ploughed land looked so 
brown and stony that we wondered how anything 
could grow there except the wild-flowers. These 
were everywhere abundant and beautiful — large 
nodding harebells, delicately-tinted roses, dainty 


SUMMER IN THE ICY NORTH. 


113 


wee violets, and many other varieties strange to 
us, among them a curious hardy little plant, with a 
white silky head like fine cotton. 

The roads were carefully fenced from the track, 
and signs set up at short intervals warned against 
the loss of cattle. We stopped frequently, and the 
stations were often large, and thronged with people. 
We never tired of watching the peasant women, 
in their short quilted petticoats, with the inevitable 
cotton handkerchief tied under the chin; and the 
big honest-faced men in coarse flannel blouse and 
broad-brimmed hat. The babies, like the little roly- 
polys in Germany, were tucked away in white cot¬ 
ton bags. No one seemed in a hurry. The railway 
officials stood idly by with their hands in their pock¬ 
ets, or leisurely quaffed their glass of foaming ale — 
a favorite beverage in Norway. When they saw fit, 
the engine snorted several times, and at last lum¬ 
bered heavily on its way. 

Towns of importance were rare. Often we 
stopped at small villages with scarcely more than a 
dozen low houses scattered over the grassy mead¬ 
ows. Each little village had its station-house, built 
of pine, in pretty rustic style — never painted, but 
oiled to keep out the dampness, and invariably 
adorned with a reindeer-head over the entrance, the 
graceful antlers stretching far on either side. The 

station-master and his family live in the station- 
8 


114 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


house, giving it a cheerful liome-like air. A fat old 
cat was often seen lying lazily curled up on a bench 
near the door. Little children toddled in and out — 
and perhaps the tidy housewife herself, in a black silk 
apron, would come and watch from the entrance as 
the train moved off. But the prettiest sight these 
simple homes afforded was the flowers. They al¬ 
ways lined the sills of the lower windows against a 
background of white curtain — a close row of tall 
regal plants, beautiful enough to delight the heart of 
any housewife. Indeed, at each succeeding station 
they seemed more beautiful, as if the good mistress 
had vied with her neighbors to see who could pro¬ 
duce the handsomest. 

About ten o’clock in the morning, the guard put 
his head in at our window and asked if he should 
telegraph to Hamar for our dinner. We assented ; 
and after he had gone, amused ourselves, when the 
outlook was uninviting, by studying up the interven¬ 
ing stations, with the times of arrival and departure, 
which were printed on a placard tacked to the side 
of the car. Near it was another, in French, German, 
English, and Norwegian, warning passengers against 
leaning out of the car-window, throwing burnt 
matches on the floor, and various other things — all 
of which we dutifully read and observed. 

At half-past twelve, the train reached Hamar. 
We stepped out, with a few other passengers, and 


SUMMER IN THE ICY NORTH 


115 


entered the dining-room. Behind the table, on a 
low platform, sat two women busily making tatting. 
They bowed as we came in, but did not stir from 
their seats. Two tables were daintily spread. On 
one were bread and butter, with pickles and other 
condiments; and on the other, piles of plates with 
knives and forks, a large platter of savory salmon, 
fresh from the stream, and a tureen of mealy pota¬ 
toes. 

Following the example of the rest, we took a 
plate from the pile, with knife and fork, and waited 
on ourselves. There was no pushing or elbowing. 
Each gave place to the other, and paid him as much 
deference as if he had been a guest in his own house. 
Presently a servant came in and removed the salmon 
and potatoes, leaving in their place a platter of boiled 
beef and a dish of cauliflower with cream sauce. 
Then followed a generous glass dish of jellied rasp¬ 
berry juice, and a great pitcher of delicious whipped 
cream. Coffee was served, as an extra, to any who 
called for it. For this dinner we paid a krone and 
two ore — thirty-five cents — which the woman be¬ 
hind the counter received with a “ mange tak .” 

At eleven we reached Tonsett, where we stopped 
for the night. It was still very light. About us were 
a few scattered houses, but not one of them looked 
like a hotel. Following a little company of travel¬ 
lers, who, satchels in hand, were wending their way 


116 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


through the lane, we entered a low whitewashed cot¬ 
tage. A bare unpainted hall led into the dining¬ 
room— the only habitable place in sight. With all 
its rudeness, there was a cosy hospitable look about 
it that spoke of comfort — in the antiquated pieces 
of stiff hair-cloth furniture, the great fireplace with 
its wide chimney, the dusty violin and hunters’ gar¬ 
ments hanging against the wall, and the sleepy old 
clock with its solemn u tick-tick.’* The lamps burned 
brightly on the supper-tables. Down the centre of 
each stretched in military order a row of dignified 
cheeses of every imaginable size and color. Besides 
cheese, there were many kinds of fresh and salt fish, 
white and black bread, boiled eggs kept warm in the 
folds of a napkin, and coffee. 

Our room was a rude shelter, but it mattered little, 
as we did not enter it till after midnight, and were 
up before six in the morning. After breakfast, the 
proprietor — an honest, simple-hearted man — hand¬ 
ed us a half-sheet of paper and a pencil, asking us 
to register. In Norway, a blackboard hung in the 
outer hall usually answers this purpose; and the vis¬ 
itor is not only expected to write his name, but also 
his occupation, residence, and destination. 

By seven we were off, and again ascending the 
mountain. After several hours, we reached Boros, 
the little mining settlement on the highest point. 
It is a drear and lonely spot, with its dozen or twenty 


SUMMER IN THE ICY NORTH. 


117 


blackened huts. From here we began a rapid de¬ 
scent. The hill-tops were crowned with snow, but 
their sloping sides were a luxuriant green, and the 
watered valleys far below were every moment grow¬ 
ing nearer and more beautiful. 

The skies had been leaden the day before, but 
now the sun shone bright and warm. It is wonder¬ 
ful what sunshine will do in Norway. It seems to 
touch into softness the sternest lines, and bring to 
light a thousand hidden beauties. 

“A few weeks ago,” said a Norwegian lady, point¬ 
ing to the green grass and leafy trees, “this was all 
under the snow. Vegetation advances rapidly when 
it really begins.'' 

The melting snow had swollen the mountain 
streams, and in countless cascades they went tum¬ 
bling and dashing over the rocks and down into the 
valleys. More swiftly we descended. The mountain 
peaks rose higher in the sky, the pleasant lowlands 
stretched around us, and at last, sweeping across a 
fine viaduct, we reached our destination and the 
terminus of the railway at Trondlijem. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


DAY WITHOUT NIGHT. 


RONDIIJEM was the ancient capital of Nor- 



wav; and in its storied cathedral — about the 
only object of interest in the town — all the early 
Norwegian kings were crowned. It is still a city of 
importance, and second in size to Christiania. 

It was a cool, clear afternoon in June, when we 
first spied the “Michael Krohn *’ rocking in the 
waters of the harbor. This was one of the five 
staunch propellers that ply the year round between 
Christiania and Hammerfest. Each boat carries 
freight, to be distributed among the fishing stations 
along the coast; and brings back cargoes of cod- 
liver oil, dried cods, and sometimes horses and 
cattle. 

We descended the narrow hatchway with no 
little curiosity as to what kind of a place we were 
to inhabit during the two weeks to come. The 
cabin was very pretty, with its red velvet cushions, 
its mirrors and plants. There were comfortable 
state-rooms, and a bath-room — an unexpected lux¬ 
ury. Between the cabin and steerage quarters 
was the kitchen. One day we ventured to peep 


118 


DAY WITHOUT NIGHT. 


119 


through the door. A hasty glance revealed a large 
room, one corner partitioned off for the kitchen 
proper, the rest devoted to a stable, where a young 
colt was capering about. 

Our cabin passengers, not counting a few Norwe¬ 
gians who would leave at some of the way stations, 
numbered eighteen: eight English, one Australian, 
two Welshmen, and seven Americans. Our cap¬ 
tain was a jolly, ruddy-faced young man, of twenty- 
five or six, kind and attentive to everyone. He 
made this trip nine months in the year almost alone ; 
and was very glad to have company during the 
summer. 

“You ought to come up here in the winter,” 
he said, enthusiastically, one day, ‘‘and see the 
Northern Lights ! That would be something to talk 
about.” 

The “Michael Krohn” left at midnight, and by 
morning was coursing through the fjord. We went 
on deck, but the air was cold and sleety. The 
biting wind stung our faces, and after a fruitless 
attempt at sight-seeing we returned to the cabin. 
Presently our ship turned out into the open sea, and 
began to roll heavily. Passengers flew to their 
state-rooms. As we lay rocking in our berths, a 
great wave dashed in through the open window and 
thoroughly drenched us. 

But our misery was of short duration. In two 


120 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


hours we were again in the sheltered fjord ; the 
storm had lulled, and the sky was clear. Toward 
evening we touched at Torghatten, and scrambled up 
its steep sides to gaze through the natural opening 
in the great mountain. 

The next day was Sunday. In the morning we 
joined in an English service in the cabin, and the 
rest of the time was spent on deck. It was still 
cold, but pleasant. All w T ere on the alert, for the 
captain had said that sometime during the night we 
should cross the Arctic Circle, and w T e knew that if 
it happened before twelve o’clock we should see for 
the first time the midnight sun. 

At ten in the evening, a little company of us 
took our camp-chairs and climbed to the hurricane 
deck. The north wind blew strong and steady, and 
in spite of the blankets wrapped about us, our ears 
and fingers tingled with the cold. The captain sent 
down for his bear-skin overcoats, and laughingly 
enveloped us in them to our ears. On steamed our 
ship, through the cold water. All was hushed 
around us. Tall mountains of rock lay on the east 
and west, shrouded in gloom save where a radiant 
gleam of pinkish light quivered upon their snowy 
crests. The shadows fell deep over the water, whose 
clear bosom reflected, as in a mirror, the little 
patches of green shore. Here and there some stray 
sunbeam crept softly over the roof of a fisherman’s 


DAY WITHOUT NIGHT. 


121 


cottage. Sometimes his little bark darted noiselessly 
across our path, or a flock of eider ducks rustled 
through the crisp air overhead. But these were the 
only signs of life. The captain lowered his glasses. 

“Do you see that strange tall rock on the left, 
the last in the line ? It is called the Cloaked Horse¬ 
man, riding out to sea. There is a legend that a 
tribe of giants once lived on the shores of the polar 
sea. Only at night could they wander forth over 
the earth, and if by any chance they had not 
returned to their island homes before dawn, they 
were changed into stone. This giant loved a lady 
who was faithless to him. One night he pursued 
and shot her, his arrow piercing Torghatten and 
making the hole you saw in the mountain. He 
then turned to gallop toward home ; but just at that 
moment the sun’s rays fell on him, and both horse 
and rider were changed into this block of stone.” 

We sat breathless, our watches in our hands, and 
our eyes fixed on the sun, which had been sinking 
lower and lower. At twelve, it touched the hori¬ 
zon, but did not dip below. A low film of cloud 
sprang up to hide it, but we could see the yellow 
disk shining through ; then it seemed to be moving 
toward the east, and at half-past twelve began to 
rise. The cloud rose with it. Higher rose the sun, 
still veiling his face, till two diameters separated 
him from the horizon. Then, in an instant, a 


122 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


conquering monarch, he burst his barriers and 
blazed forth in almost noon-day splendor. It was 
a quarter after one. 

During the week that followed, until we recrossed 
the Arctic Circle on our return, we saw the mid¬ 
night sun daily. Each evening we sat up till after 
twelve, fascinated by the strange phenomenon, fear¬ 
ing it might be our last view ; and each successive 
night, with scarcely a shadow of cloud in the sky, 
the sun shone upon us with undimmed brightness. 

But the midnight sun brought new trials. Each 
morning when we descended to our state-rooms we 
found them flooded with sunshine. Cloaks, blankets 
and shawls were pinned up before our window, and 
climbing into our berths, we turned our faces to the 
wall, covered our heads and closed our eyes tight; 
but it was to little purpose. The hoarse rumbling 
of the donkey-engines above us — the merry laugh¬ 
ter of night revellers as they tramped to and fro on 
deck, and the tantalizing sunbeams that would not 
be shut out, were fatal to repose. 

After the first day the weather changed, and was 
so mild and spring-like we could often sit on deck 
without even a light shawl about us. 

One lovely evening, when our vessel stopped at 
a small landing to take on cargo, a few of us took a 
boat and rowed to the opposite side of the stream to 
enjoy a run on the mountains ; but the ground was 


DAY WITHOUT NIGHT. 


123 


damp and trickling with water from the melting 
snow, and the swarms of mosquitoes soon drove us 
back. On our way down we passed a small weather- 
beaten cottage. Near by was a shed, and some 
reindeer horns and wooden sledges were leaning 
against it. “ Suppose we ask for a drink of milk ! ” 
suggested one, at the same time rapping at the 
house door. No one answered. The knocks were 
repeated vigorously, and still no response. We 
searched for another entrance, sure that the little 
cottage must be inhabited. Suddenly some one 
pointed to a patched bedquilt hanging before one 
of the windows. “Would you believe it?” ex¬ 
claimed the Welshman, taking out his watch; ‘‘it’s 
past midnight! ” 

“Impossible!” we cried in chorus, not believ¬ 
ing it could be more than six. “Why, of course, 
then, everybody is asleep.” 

A little farther on we found another cottage, 
much newer and thriftier than the first. Two neatly- 
dressed women stood beside the door knitting. 
When we asked for a drink, they nodded assent, 
and led us courteously into the house. There were 
three small rooms — a kitchen, with its deep fire¬ 
place and clay floor; a sewing-room, in which was 
the spinning-wheel and loom, with a piece of half- 
woven cotten stretched upon it; and a parlor. The 
latter was quite cosy. Thick brown paper covered 


124 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


tlie walls, to keep out the cold. A few pots of 
flowers stood on the window-sill, and every piece of 
the scanty furniture was placed to the best advan¬ 
tage. A pitcher of foaming milk and some glasses 
were set upon the table. On leaving, one of the 
gentlemen offered the women a piece of silver. At 
first they drew back and shook their heads, but 
finally accepted it reluctantly. 

Twelve days we cruised among the fjords, steam¬ 
ing in and out through their winding channels ; and 
only twice, before reaching the North Cape, coming 
out into the open sea. The coast scenery was wild 
and rugged. Stern mountain-sides, and frowning 
rocks worn into a thousand fantastic shapes by the 
roaring waves, lay along our way. Once we passed 
a maelstrom, and again a glacier reaching toward 
the fjord with its cold white arms. 

One whole day we were sailing by u The Seven 
Sisters” — tall and majestic; and two other days 
we were among the grand Lofoden islands, with 
sharply serrated peaks. Their climate is said to be 
milder in winter than Christiania itself, owing to the 
easterly course of the Gulf-stream. 

But far more interesting than the bare rocks and 
mountain peaks were the phases of human life 
along these desolate shores. Sometimes the little 
houses of the fishermen seemed to spring out of the 
very rocks, with scarcely a blade of green around 


DA Y WITHOUT NIGHT. 


125 


them, sheltered above and below only by the out- 
jntting crags ; but oftener they nestled on some 
green knoll at the foot of the overhanging moun¬ 
tains. Every little patch of meadow was dotted by 
a colony of cottages, shut in by snow-crowned 
heights and rugged promontories. How like little 
oases seemed these emerald coves in contrast with 
the barrenness about them ! Brave and bold must 
be the men and women that live on these lonely 
coasts. Their fare is scanty, consisting chiefly of 
fish, cheese, and flad-brod. They depend almost 
wholly upon the great annual fisheries ; and when 
these fail — as had happened the year before — it is 
a sorry time for them. 

As we steamed near each little fishing-station, 
two objects rose prominently to view: the flag-staff 
from which floated the country’s banner, and the 
white walls and black spire of the Lutheran chapel 
— for Norwegians are notably patriotic and religious. 
If we had merchandise to leave, the steamer whistled. 
Then from the little cottages would come forth a 
bevy of women and children, in light calico dresses, 
and colored handkerchiefs tied over their flaxen 
hair ; while the stalwart men hurried down to the 
water, unmoored the boats, and row r ed out to meet us. 

Their boats were all of unpainted pine — oiled to 
make them water-tight, and pointed at each end. 
Many of them were quite large, and furnished with 


120 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE . 


a rude cabin that served as a home for the men 
during the great fisheries, when they were on the 
sea many days together. 

As the boats drew near our ship, the hold was 
thrown open, and the donkey-engines were set at 
work. If the men had brought cargo with them, this 
was taken on board first; even the horses and cows 
— poor frightened creatures—were swung into the 
air as if they had been boxes or barrels. Then our 
city merchandise was thrown out to the men — a 
bag of meal to one, a box to another, and a bundle 
of dry-goods to a third. While they were being 
distributed, we leaned over the ship’s side and 
watched the interested faces of the men, wondering 
if anybody was disappointed, and wishing we could 
leave them more. 

Along the shore, piles of fishes’ heads, arranged 
like bee-hives, had been left to dry in the sun. 
These were formerly thrown away, but now they are 
pulverized and sent as fertilizers to foreign countries. 

One afternoon an old barge with a cargo of dried 
cods anchored beside our ship. For two hours, men 
and women and children worked busily, loading 
them into the hold — fifty-two thousand in all — and 
receiving in wages twelve cents an hour. After it 
was done, the children came on board, and sang for 
us some of Moody and Sankey’s hymns, translated 
into their native tongue. 


DAY WITHOUT NIGHT. 


127 


Among our cabin passengers was a family from 
Christiania—a doctor and liis wife, and their three 
children, the oldest a little boy only five years of 
age. The doctor was sent by the government to a 
small station far up the coast, to minister to the 
people,—going about in his own boat among the 
little colonies in the neighborhood. He was a 
fine-looking man, with a strong, intelligent face. 
His wife was a small, delicate woman, very culti¬ 
vated. She often entertained us with selections in 
music from the best masters, and through her sweet, 
refined ways, soon won the hearts of all on board. 

“Yes, I do dread to go to my new home,” she 
said wistfully. “I think of the dark cold days in 
winter ; and five years is a long time to be separated 
from my friends in Christiania.” 

One morning the doctor was told by the captain 
that he was nearing his destination. We had gone 
many miles out of our way to reach it — at the very 
end of one of the longest and most northerly fjords. 
It was a perfect day, mild and bright, the yellow 
sunshine playing over the gray rocks till even their 
stern outlines grew soft and beautiful. 

Late in the afternoon, we drew near the cove. 
All around stood the still, white mountains, wrapped 
in their ermine; while below, against a background 
of dark pines, sloped the grassy shore. A little 
paradise it seemed in the radiance of the June 


128 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


sunshine — but we thought of the wintry days com¬ 
ing, and shrank from leaving our friends in such 
a lonely home. A few cottages were in sight — 
barely a dozen; and a little gathering of people 
were watching from the banks. The young wife 
shaded her eyes with her hands. 

“They wrote us they had built us a house; I 
would like to find it,” she said, in tremulous tones. 

Eagerly we crowded around her, and every glass 
was turned searchingly toward the shore. Finally 
the doctor discovered it — a neat white cottage, a 
little apart from the others. 

As soon as our vessel dropped anchor, the men 
from the shore pushed off in their boats to meet us. 
Their honest bronze faces beamed with happiness, 
and their clean flannel blouses and felt hats showed 
they had dressed in their very best. In one of the 
boats, propped up with pillows, reclined an invalid 
girl, her pale face turned eagerly for a glimpse of 
the doctor she could not wait to see from the land. 

It took a long time to unload the eighty boxes. 
The doctor leaned over the side of the steamer. 

r 

giving directions ; while the wife stood by his side, 
patient and silent. At last the work was done. 
Piano, poultry, canned fruit, and all, were hoisted 
from the hold; and a trim boat rowed close to the 
ship's side to take the family on shore. We 
gathered around to say good-bye. Few words were 












































DAY WITHOUT NIGHT. 


129 


spoken, but the mute sympathy was felt and under¬ 
stood. The father handed the babies to the sailors, 
who held out their arms to receive them. Big 
brawny arms they were, but no mother could have 
held the little ones more tenderly. Then the wife 
descended the steps, the sailors vying with each 
other in their eagerness to help her to the best seat. 
Finally the doctor stepped into the boat, and the 
men picked up the oars. The “ Michael Krohn ” 
turned about, and steamed slowly out to sea. We 
crowded to the stern, and waved our handkerchiefs. 
Two answering signals from the little boat floated 
out on the soft June air. The distance widened 
between us ; the bright light on the snowy moun¬ 
tains dazzled our eyes ; but still we lingered, waving 
and watching as long as an answering speck of white 
could be seen rising and falling on the water. 

9 


CHAPTER XIV. 


THE NORTH CAPE’S WINDY WEDGE. 

HERE are three small cities of importance 



between Trondlijem and the North Cape: 
Bodo, Tromso, and Hammerfest. At Tromso we 
saw the Lapps. Not many of the little people had 
yet come down from the mountains, but we found 
half-a-dozen families collected in an open space by 
the fjord at the farther end of the town. They were 
miserably poor and dirty. The women were curious, 
and tried to gather around us ; but we preferred to 
keep them at a safe distance. Although it was 
mild summer weather, all were clad in reindeer 
fur from head to foot. The women’s dress differed 
little from the men’s, except that their blouses hung 
fuller and longer, while their fur hoods came to a 
peak, after the manner of a fool’s cap. The men 
wore short trousers, a low gaily-trimmed cap, and a 
leathern belt from which hung their short knife with 
its handle of reindeer horn. Around the necks 
and ankles of both men and women, was wound 
strip after strip of skin in tight coils, reaching closely 
around their fur shoes, and fitting snugly under 
their caps. 


130 


THE NORTH CAPE'S WINDY WEDGE. 131 


The Lapps were far from handsome. They had 
high cheek bones, brown skins, brown hair matted 
under the rim of their hoods, and small bright eyes. 
Swung on the arm at the elbow by a handle of cloth 
or skin, the mothers carried the baby’s cradle, of 
birch bark or reindeer hide. It was a little nest, and 
away inside, wrapped warmly in fur, lay the wee one. 
The Lapp babies are very small — but we wondered 
how they could be anything else, tucked away in 
their little nests so snugly they can scarcely move. 
The Lapp dogs are much prized by their owners. A 
gentleman in our party offered a hundred and fifty 
dollars for one, and was refused. 

In the afternoon we took a row-boat, and, under 
the guidance of the Norwegian police to the Lapps, 
rowed a mile and a half up the shore to another 
encampment. Here we found the people living in 
their native fashion, in tents of reindeer skins, sup¬ 
ported on poles, with a hole in the top for the 
smoke to escape. 

Getting on our hands and knees, we crawled into 
one of these little wigwams. It was not as bad as 
we had supposed. Immediately under the opening, 
a fire of dried twigs was burning, and over it 
hung an iron skillet. A few cooking utensils and 
reindeer skins were the only furnishing. Stretched 
on his comfortable skin, lounged the Lapp lord, 
smoking ; and beside him sat a Lapp baby. Both 


132 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE . 


seemed intensely interested in watching the oper¬ 
ations of an old woman who was busy preparing 
the afternoon meal. With her dirty hand she took 
some dark meal out of a bag, placed it in a wooden 
bowl, and pouring on some water, commenced 
kneading it. This done, she patted it between her 
hands to the proper thickness — about half an 
inch,— and then laid it in the sauce-pan over the 
fire. As there seemed to be no grease, of course it 
sputtered noisily; but the woman kept turning it 
briskly from side to side, and in less than three min¬ 
utes declared it done. 

After a moment’s hesitation, she held it out to L. 
and me. We took it with a nod of thanks, and 
broke it apart in the middle. As might have been 
expected, while the cake was burned on the outside, 
the inside was raw and doughy, with an insipid odor. 
Several times we raised it heroically to our lips, but 
it went no further. Another cake was taken from 
the fire, and this time handed to the baby, who with 
infantile greediness seized it with outstretched hands 
and open mouth. 

The mountain Lapps leave their winter home in 
warm weather, driven down by the melting snows 
and the swarms of mosquitoes. The Norwegians 
have little liking for these people. They told us 
they were thriftless, fond of drinking, and untrust¬ 
worthy; and though many attempts had been made 


THE NORTH CAPE’S WINDY WEDGE . 133 


to civilize and Christianize them, they had met 
with only partial success. 

The Lapp, in spite of his poverty, knows how to 
enjoy life. His tent is comfortable, even in cold 
weather. The reindeer is his mainstay. He eats 
its flesh, drinks its milk, and clothes himself in 
its fur and skin; while its horns are made into knife- 
handles, pipes, and various useful articles. Some¬ 
times a single Lapp owns several thousand reindeer. 
He is then a rich man. 

But the reindeer are often very untamable. We 
only saw a few roaming on the hill-tops in the neigh¬ 
borhood, though sometimes they are driven down 
from the mountains in large herds. During the 
winter, true to the St. Nicholas legends, the Lapp 
dashes madly over the crusty snow, in his sledge 
drawn by a reindeer. Often the frisky animal be¬ 
comes unmanageable, and turning around, suddenly 
attacks the driver with its sharp antlers. The 
Lapp knows he is no match for such weapons; so, 
tumbling out upon the snow, he turns his sledge 
over him, and calmly waits while the enraged deer 
thumps and bats against the walls of his prison, and 
when its wrath is spent, he rights his sledge, jumps 
in, and goes safely on his way. 

Tromso is a pleasant little city, set on the side of 
a gently-sloping hill, and washed by the sheltered 
waters of the fjord. We took a walk through the 


134 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


meadows back of the town, picking handfuls of the 
wild flowers that surprised us everywhere with their 
abundance and beauty. 

In the city we spent several hours in sauntering 
through the fur-stores. Beautiful skins, in tempting 
variety, covered the walls and hung in the windows : 
great skins of the black and polar bear, softer ones 
of the fox and rabbit, and, rarest of all, exquisite 
bed-blankets of eider down, the velvety-gray down 
covering both sides alike with a border in variega¬ 
ted colors from the necks of the ducks. Reindeer 
skins were abundant and cheap. The hair is short 
and coarse, but the colors are pleasing, and they 
make pretty hearth-rugs. Entire Lapp suits in rein¬ 
deer-fur— shoes, mittens, cap, and blouse—were 
offered for sale. Some of the stores abounded in 
curious little trifles, the handiwork of the Lapps,— 
such as spoons, knives, and pipes, carved from the 
reindeer horn, and scratched with rude pictures 
illustrative of the Lapps’ artistic skill. 

Two days from Tromso, we touched at Hammer- 
fest. Far away on the north and west rolled the 
polar ocean, serene and boundless. On the shore of 
the main land, hiding among the cold rocks as if 
seeking protection under their frowning sides, lay 
the little city. Above was the canopy of blue sky ; 
and the zephyrs blew softly around us. But no 
loveliness of sky or air could make us forgetful of 


THE NORTH CAPE’S WINDY WEDGE. 135 


the cruel winter coming, or the thunder of the 
angry waves that would break on the storm-beaten 
rocks. 

There is an air of romance about Hammerfest — 
not in the sterility of its surroundings, or in the 
encircling arms of the polar sea, but in the fact that 
it is the most northerly city in the world. Beyond 
here are a few scattered patches of verdure where 
fishermen have planted their little cottages, but 
most of the coast is too sterile to afford a home for 
any living creature but the birds. 

Twenty-five hundred people, out of the two mill¬ 
ions in all Norway, live in Hammerfest. The town 
looks bleaker from the water than it is in reality. 
There are patches of green grass, dotted by snug 
cottages with low-reaching turf-roofs, birch twigs 
filling every crevice, and bright pot-plants blooming 
in the windows. Once, we caught the musical 
tinkle of a piano. 

Not far from the wharf is the town square, with 
its gray wind-blown music-stand. Long wooden 
tables were placed along the side of the square, pre¬ 
sided over by a score of ruddy-faced women, all 
busily engaged in supplying the wants of a row of 
fishermen, who, seated on benches before the table, 
were heartily enjoying the cakes of flad-brod, bowls 
of milk, and the cheese and eggs, liberally dealt out 
to them. 


136 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


We sailed from Hammerfest on the afternoon of 
the 22d of June ; and all the rest of that long lovely 
day were cruising along the sixty miles of coast to 
the North Cape. We at last left the fjord, and were 
out in the open sea, with only a jagged line of rocks 
skirting the mainland on the right. Vegetation was 
gone ; even the hardy shrubs and grasses, that a little 
farther south reached out between the rocky crev¬ 
ices, had quite disappeared, and nothing remained to 
soften the outlines of the dull gray stone. The 
great Arctic Sea lay like a sheet of glass about us. 
How could it ever be cruel, that gently-heaving sur¬ 
face, sparkling with a thousand changing colors ! 
Whales sported in the water, and from half-a-dozen 
different places jets of spray shot into the air, fall¬ 
ing back again in a fountain of mist. 

At ten o’clock we came in sight of the North 
Cape — a magnificent bluff, rising almost perpen¬ 
dicularly a thousand feet out of the sea. On the 
western side was a sheltered cove, where we were to 
go ashore. As the “Michael Krohn ” gradually 
neared the bluff, suddenly, at Captain Christie’s sig¬ 
nal, from bow to stern, along the rigging to the very 
tops of the masts, innumerable gay flags fluttered 
in the wind; then a salute of six guns was fired, 
the thunder reverberating among the rocky walls, 
till it seemed as if the whole mountain would 
be shivered. 


THE NORTH CAPE'S WINDY WEDGE. 137 


At eleven the boats were lowered, and we rowed 
to the shore to make the ascent. The slope was 
more gradual on the west side ; but at the best, we 
had a formidable climb before us. The snow had 
entirely melted, except where a single narrow strip 
swept down from the top of the mountain. Each 
gentleman of the party assisted a lady as best 
he could to scramble up the slippery path. At 
last, when within a few feet of the summit, a bulg¬ 
ing piece of earth prevented our going further. 
Then two sailors swung us in their stout arms over 
the precipice, and landed us safely on the brow of 
the cape. Here we found a broad level surface, car¬ 
peted with short tough grass. In places, the ground 
was quite hard, with patches of the mica bed 
showing through the turf; again, it sunk soft and 
wet under our tread, where the snow had lately 
melted, leaving in its place a scanty sprinkling of 
wild-flowers. 

Hear the northern extremity of the cape, stands a 
small granite column, placed here in honor of King 
Oscar’s ascent, in 1872 . The gentlemen drank their 
toasts — the orator of the party made a speech — 
then, writing our names on a bit of paper and lay¬ 
ing it beside the monument, and heartily joining 
with our English friends in singing u God save the 
Queen,” we turned our faces toward the sea. Our 
watch-hands pointed to twelve. The sky was still 


138 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


fair. Away in the north, strange and beautiful, 
hung the yellow sun, five diameters above the hori¬ 
zon. The sunlight had not the brilliancy of a more 
southerly latitude, but shed over sky and water a 
“ soft, mysterious glow, as if shining through a net of 
golden gauze.'’ Before us, as far as eye could reach, 
rolled the majestic ocean. A faint gurgle came to 
our ears, as the water gently laved the rocks far below. 

A hush had gradually fallen upon our little 
party. Thrilled and awed, we gazed silently out on 
the wonderful scene. Carlyle’s own eloquent words 
express it best: “Silence as of death — for mid¬ 
night, even in the Arctic latitude, has its character; 
nothing but the granite cliffs, ruddy-tinged — the 
peaceful gurgle of that slow-heaving polar ocean, 
over which and the utmost north the great sun 
hangs low and lazy, as if he too were slumbering. 
In such moments solitude is invaluable ; for who 
would speak or be looked upon, when behind him 
lies all Europe and Africa, fast asleep except the 
watchmen, and before him the silent Immensity — 
the palace of the Eternal, whereof our sun is but a 
porcli-lamp ! ” 

If the ascent of the cape was difficult, how shall 
I describe the descent! Slipping, stumbling and 
sliding over the ground — clutching for support at 
stones and earth, only to find them giving way with 
us — hearing deafening screams to look out for fall- 


THE NORTH CAPE'S WINDY WEDGE. 139 


ing boulders, yet unable to move an inch from 
our path, panting and foot-sore, yet powerless to 
stop,— onward we went, in dizzy blindness. At last 
the end was reached ; and when safely landed at the 
foot of the cape, we amused ourselves searching for 
driftwood, deposited here by the Gulf-stream, and 
tilling our pockets with curious shells and white 
sponges, found among the seaweed and the rocks. 

At three o’clock we returned to the steamer, and 
the cod-fishing began — a part of the regular pro¬ 
gramme. The cods were abundant and eager ; and 
almost as fast as we threw in our line, we drew it 
out heavy with its floundering trophy. 

On our return trip, we visited a whaling station. 
The captain of a whaling schooner showed us a 
monster, eighty feet long, that had just been 
brought in, after dragging the vessel about with it 
for seven hours. He showed us another whale 
partly cut up ; opening its great jaws to let us see 
the arrangement of the whalebones, and the hairy 
mat lining the upper jaw, which prevents the food 
from passing out with the water, when the whale 
spouts. To our surprise, we learned that the 
animal’s throat is so small that it can swallow only 
a small herring. Every part of the great fish is 
utilized; not only its bones and oil, but its flesh, 
which is sold for meat, and often mistaken for beef¬ 
steak. The refuse is converted into fertilizers. The 


140 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


whale is captured by means of a long iron spike, 
having a triangular receptacle at one end filled with 
dynamite. This is fired from a cannon into the 
whale’s body. The dynamite explodes, causing a 
vacuum, which lightens the monster’s bulk so that 
it floats easily. 

The twelfth day from starting, and the sixth 
from the North Cape, we touched again at Trond- 
lijem. Here our party separated: some returning to 
Christiania, there to'take a steamer for England; 
others seeking the beautiful scenery of the Homsdal, 
and salmon fishing in the neighboring streams; while 
L. and I set our faces toward the interior. 


CHAPTER XV. 


A NIGHT AT A NORWEGIAN SJETER. 


~TT7~E were going alone — thirty-five miles straight 
^ * into the heart of the country. 

“You are sure it is quite safe?’’ we asked, a lit¬ 
tle anxiously, of the Norwegian who was directing us. 

“ Perfectly. You could travel anywhere in Nor¬ 
way alone, and even sleep out under the trees every 
night without fear.” 

We were full of eagerness, and already sniffed, 
in imagination, the sweet pine odors and bracing 
air of the stern Norse fjelds. 

The softer is peculiar to Norway, and is some¬ 
what like the Swiss chalet. As the soil is poor, 
during the summer the scanty harvest in the val¬ 
leys must be carefully garnered for winter’s use ; so, 
early in the spring, when the first snow begins to 
melt from the lofty fjelds, scores of buxom maids, 
in little companies of twos and threes, are sent far 
up the mountain trails to some distant slope, where 
they may pasture their flocks on the hardy grass, 
till the autumn frosts drive them back again to the 
valleys. 

Each party of girls has its own sceter , ^or rude 


141 


142 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


shanty, which shelters them, and where they carry 
on a brisk dairy business. Often these sceters are 
situated miles from each other, or from any habita¬ 
tion ; and the girls pass the long summer months 
without hearing any human voices but their own. 

Our starting-point was Lille Elvedal, a quiet little 
town on the railroad between Trondhjem and Chris¬ 
tiania. When we stepped upon the platform, one 
dull afternoon in July, there was nothing in sight 
but the pretty pine station-house, with its blooming 
window-plants, a few low cottages nestled among the 
green hills, and the village hotel. Two maiden sis¬ 
ters were with us — school-teachers from the city, 
who had come to this sylvan resort to while away a 
few weeks of vacation. 

We picked up our shawl-straps, and together 
walked across to the hotel. It was a plain, hospita¬ 
ble-looking building, rising high above its neighbors. 
Its wide roof slanted low over the eaves. The un¬ 
painted walls were of oiled pine, and above the 
front entrance was a reindeer’s head, with its hand¬ 
some antlers spreading proudly on either side, as a 
crowning ornament. 

At the door we met the landlady, in a fresh calico 
gown, her flaxen locks brushed smoothly back in a 
neat coil. She led us through a broad hall to the door 
of the sitting-room, where we stopped a minute for 
a general survey. It was a cosy picture. The bright 


A NIGHT AT A NORWEGIAN SJETER. 143 


yellow floor, relieved by a few liome-made rugs, 
spotless curtains blowing about the pots of scarlet 
geraniums, white walls hung with a half dozen anti¬ 
quated pictures, the polished stove standing sentinel 
in one corner—its low hearth sprinkled with a hand¬ 
ful of pine twigs and dried rose-leaves,—several pieces 
of well-brushed hair-cloth furniture, two black wooden 
rockers, a centre-table,— and the picture is complete. 

The sisters were especially delighted, and turned 
their eyes admiringly from one part of the room to 
another. After a long survey, one of them said to 
us, with a smile, in her broken English: 

44 1 suppose you haven’t anything as fine as this 
in America.” 

A wide hall, its sweet pine walls and ceiling un¬ 
marred by paint or plaster, ran the entire length of 
the building on the ground floor; and from this the 
bedrooms opened. Our little nest was rural indeed, 
with its bare floor, a board nailed across a corner of the 
room for the wash-stand with its tin bowl and pitcher, 
and two narrow cots radiant under their scarlet 
merino counterpanes. 

When we returned to the sitting-room, the sisters 
were already seated comfortably in the black rockers, 
each busy with her tatting. They greeted us eager¬ 
ly, and made us sit down beside them, while in 
their simple innocent way they asked question after 
question about America. 


144 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


u Do bears run wild through the cities ? Are 
the Indians very terrible ? And in that wicked 
city, Chicago, we have heard — but can it be true ? 
— that people go about the streets killing each 
other.” 

The next morning we were up early, and ready 
for a start at eight. A cariole stood at the door. 
It was a little carriage, with long easy shafts, and 
looked very inviting in spite of its weather-stained 
sides. Its two wheels and single narrow seat re¬ 
minded us of the racing-gig. There are few rail¬ 
ways in Norway, but the cariole, light and elastic 
notwithstanding its lack of springs, can be driven 
over hill and through valleys the length and breadth 
of the land. At regular intervals along the country 
roads are public cariole stations, at any one of 
which a person may hire a horse and vehicle. He 
may then drive on to the next, procure a fresh outfit, 
and so continue to the journey’s end. There is little 
danger of losing the way, for the roads are nearly 
direct, and the small Norwegian ponies are so docile 
they can be easily managed even by the inexperi¬ 
enced. 

The cariole, with its single seat, is expected to 
carry but one person; though, as Lille Elvedal 
could only furnish a single outfit, this had to an¬ 
swer for two. While one of us occupied the seat of 
honor in front, the other balanced herself adroitly 


A NIGHT AT A NOR WE GIAN SEE TER. 145 


on a board placed across the shafts at the rear, her 
feet dangling just above the ground, and her hands 
clinging for support to the back of the seat in front. 
This board usually carries the post-boy and carpet¬ 
bags ; now the oat-bag was strapped to it, and 
served as a cushion which was destined to grow 
harder as the pony gradually emptied it. 

L. and I mounted to our places in the cariole. 
At this juncture, a young doctor and his wife, from 
Christiania, ready for a frolic, decided to join us. For 
them a respectable gig was secured, with a post-boy 
for driver. The doctor led the way and we followed 
close behind. The entire hotel community, from the 
plump proprietor down to the staring cow-boy, had 
gathered to see us off, and waved us a lingering 
farewell from the barnyard. Away we joggled, 
down the lane, past the little chapel with its black- 
tipped steeple, across the bridge, and around a 
bend, directlv toward the mountains in the East. 

It was a glorious morning — one of Norway’s 
own. The wind blew cold and bracing. The skies 
were sullen, but they matched the still pine forests 
that stretched mile after mile on our right hand ; 
while on the other side flowed a mountain stream, 
now rippling in gentle eddies over its smooth bed, 
now dashing and roaring madly among the rocks 
and fens, to break at last with a splash into a foam¬ 
ing cascade. 

10 


146 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


Along the roadside, under the hedges, grew 
clusters of ferns, harebells, and the sweet yellow 
and purple violets. Often we stopped to gather 
handfuls of the forest beauties, or to trim our horses’ 
heads with graceful poplar boughs and trailing vines. 

u Oli, how sweet the pine woods smell! ” we ex¬ 
claimed again and again, as we brushed against 
their bristling needles, and inhaled long drafts of 
the pure and invigorating air. Sometimes, in the 
stillness of their deep shadows, we heard the sound 
of the woodman’s axe, and along our way passed 
the pine trunks he had felled and, stripped of their 
bark, had set up in stacks to dry. Here were 
towering cliffs of partly-quarried limestone, and 
there the land stretched about us in pleasant 
meadows. On these fertile patches of ground were 
the cottages of the peasants — some new and fresh, 
but for the most part old and nearly as dark as the 
soil itself. 

We stopped before one of these humble homes. 
A column of black smoke wreathed above the rude 
stone chimney. The rooms were small and scantily 
furnished. Out-doors, over a bed of hot coals laid 
in a stone basin, hung the heavy kettle used for 
boiling down tar. We asked the woman for a glass 
of milk. She brought us some in a pitcher ; but it 
was blue and thin. Strange to say, in this country, 
where dairies are so numerous, milk with cream can 


A NIGHT AT A NORWEGIAN SHI TER. 147 


rarely be bad. The people are too poor to drink it 
themselves, and skim off the cream to sell it. 

The doctor and his wife proved charming com¬ 
panions. Both could speak a little English, and 
every few minutes they turned back to laugh and 
chat with us in a friendly way. Occasionally a 
sturdy peasant, with his axe on his shoulder, came 
trudging by — lifting his hat respectfully as he 
passed, then stopping to gaze wonderingly at us. 

At noon, we drew up before our first station. 
All around were brooks, forests, and lofty moun¬ 
tains ; while far in the distance we could catch a 
faint glimpse of two or three little cottages set in a 
frame of green. We had driven into the yard, en¬ 
closed on three sides by separate low buildings — 
the stable, the kitchen, and, between them, the main 
building, which contained the living rooms. 

The farmer and his wife hurried out to help us 
dismount. Leaving the doctor to arrange for 
another team, we followed the good housewife, 
who, decked out in the finery of a quilted petticoat, 
and a black silk cap tied snugly under her chin, 
led the way to the house. We were shown a mod¬ 
erate-sized room, and left to amuse ourselves, while 
the dame hurried back to the kitchen, to prepare 
dinner. 

Everything about us was thoroughly peasant¬ 
like, from the pink paint on the walls, to the ample 


148 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


fireplace built in a corner of the room, and reach¬ 
ing from the floor to the ceiling. As it was sum¬ 
mer, the entire mouth of the fireplace was filled 
with a leafy poplar tree, still green and fresh, whose 
outspreading branches reached around the plastered 
sides, and concealed the black walls behind. The 
floor was covered with a woodsy carpet of fragrant 
pine-needles, and the silky cotton of the pussy¬ 
willow. About the four walls, near the ceiling, 
ran a shelf filled with all manner of curious 
wares — pans, horns, and wooden boxes, gayly or¬ 
namented with painted men and animals cut in re¬ 
lief in the sides. Lower down, hung the dresser, con¬ 
spicuous with its gorgeous display of earthenware; 
each plate and saucer was decorated in the most brill¬ 
iant colors, and was set carefully up on edge, and 
all were preserved as household treasures. A sta¬ 
tionary bench against the sides of the room took the 
place of chairs, and beside it in one corner stood the 
wooden table. 

We looked into the next room, whose only fur¬ 
nishing was two wooden beds under clean cotton 
sheets; peered up into the loft from the foot of the 
ladder, then returned to the first room, and sat 
down before the table, round which our hopes 
then centred. The long morning ride and keen 
air had sharpened our appetites; and while we 
waited, imagination pictured in bright visions the 


A NIGHT AT A NORWEGIAN STETER. 149 


country cream and savory chicken soon to be set 
before us. At last the housewife appeared, bearing 
a large low-rimmed tray containing our dinner. 
Hungrily we surveyed its contents, but with a grad¬ 
ual falling of countenance. In the centre, set up 
on end like a colossal bar of brown soap, stood a 
forlorn goatVmilk cheese. Beside it lay a flabby 
half-scaled fish, with its lugubrious head and dis¬ 
consolate tail drooping over the sides of the platter. 
A yellow dish of thick milk, and a wire-basket 
heaped high with jlad-brod cut in triangles, com¬ 
pleted the menu. 

The Doctor and his wife, being Norwegians, set 
cheerfully to work. L. and I, placing our handker¬ 
chiefs in our laps, cut off a piece of the fish with our 
pewter knives and forks. It was an insipid morsel. 

“Please give us some salt,'” said the doctor, to 
the woman who was standing by. She immediately 
climbed upon the bench, and took down from the 
shelf one of the curiously decorated boxes. It was 
partly filled with a coarse, yellow-grained substance, 
which the uninitiated would never have suspected 
to be salt, except for its flavor. 

The doctor’s wife kindly showed us how to eat 
the thick milk by sprinkling toasted crumbs on the 
top and skimming off the cream. We took several 
tastes — all of our little party eating out of the same 
dish. A few shavings of the goat’s cheese quite 


150 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


satisfied us, for its sugary flavor made it almost 
sickening. At last we fell back on the Jlad-brod. 
Flad-brod is all that its name indicates — flat bread, 
made of coarse rye, and baked in thin hard cakes. 
It is a favorite diet with Norwegians, but to us was 
about as palatable as chips. We broke off* bits 
from one of the triangles, and munched away per- 
severingly on the tough unimpressible crust, trying 
to persuade ourselves that after all we were not very 
hungry. 

After dinner we wandered into the kitchen. The 
rough walls showed signs of whitewash, which the 
black smoke had nearly obliterated. Almost the 
whole of one side of the room was taken up by the 
fireplace, with its wide chimney and brick hearth, 
where lay a few smouldering embers. Around a 
table at one side sat the family, dining on what ap¬ 
peared to be scraps left from our dinner — bits of 
jlad-brod , and heads and tails of fish. 

In the meantime, fresh horses were harnessed to 
the carioles, and the doctor called us to our places. 
The station-master's son was engaged as our guide 
to the sceter. It was only two miles distant, he 
told us; but as one Norwegian mile means seven of 
ours, we had still a good afternoon’s ride before us. 

Leaving the cariole road, that continued to 
wind through the valleys, we turned at once 
toward the untrodden slopes of the mountains. In 


A NIGHT AT A NORWEGIAN SEE TER. 151 


many places the way was so steep and rugged we 
threw the lines over the horses 1 heads, and, jumping 
to the ground, scrambled merrily over the slippery 
path on foot. The tall pines and tangled under¬ 
brush shut us in like a forest; but the wind had 
blown away the clouds, and stray beams of sunlight 
glimmered down through the boughs in bright flick¬ 
ering patches. All was still, except for the musical 
trickle of little mountain streams as they hurried 
past us to the valley, or the sweet call of the cuckoo 
over our heads. 

Steadily we toiled on for several hours, scaling 
brow after brow of successive fjelds, and descending 
into one ravine after another, to rise in turn to some 
loftier height. The mountains, that a little while 
before had risen so far above us, now began to 
stretch away in uneven lines on every side. Many 
peaks lay below our feet. Only the higher oneSj 
hoary-crowned, rose nearer to the calm clear sky. 
The ground was covered with a light green mat 
of reindeer-moss — so called because it is eaten by 
the reindeer running wild on the mountains. There 
was an abundance of heather, many of the little 
cotton-flowers we had noticed in the valleys, and 
the sweet faces of the u forest eyes,” growing with 
the tougher grasses. The trees and shrubs had 
almost disappeared, and the surface was bare, va¬ 
ried only by the crystal-bosomed springs that gave 


152 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


birtli to the thousands of tiny rivulets coursing their 
way down the mountain-sides. 

The guide had been plodding silently on for 
some time, when suddenly he stopped, and pointing 
across a deep ravine to a distant hill-slope, ex¬ 
claimed eagerly: “ Sceter! Sceter /” 

A little brown shed, enclosed within a two-acre 
fence, met our gaze. Could that be the sceter? 
Silent misgivings crept into our minds as to the kind 
of entertainment such a place could offer; but the 
eyes of the guide were still fixed upon us, so we only 
nodded and smiled, hoping that in this case nearness 
instead of distance would lend the enchantment. 

Presently we turned down a road leading to the 
bed of the ravine. Just at its foot we halted upon 
the bank of a pretty river, a quarter of a mile wide, 
that lay between us and the object of our hope. 
Cross it we must — but how ? An old barge lay 
upon the shore, but it was secured to a stake by a 
padlock. The guide, who had been shuffling about 
in the tall grass, suddenly kicked against something 
hard, and stooping down, produced the key. The 
fastenings were soon undone, and the boat pushed 
into the water. 

It was an old rickety affair, and leaked badly. 
L. sat on the seat at one end, bailing, with an old 
tin can, the water that oozed rapidly in through the 
large cracks. I followed the doctor’s wife, crouch- 


A NIGHT AT A NORWEGIAN SEE TER. 153 


ing as best I could on the side of the boat. The 
doctor took his stand at the stern, and paddled ; 
while the guide, unhitching the horses from the 
carioles, rode with them through the shallow stream. 
The carioles were left on the other side of the river, 
for our use the next morning. 

We were soon safely across, and within a few 
rods of the setter , which stood upon the low sum¬ 
mit of a near hill. Breaking our way through 
the bristling fens, we reached the gateway at the 
side of the little granary that led to the setter 
enclosure. Full of eagerness, we turned our eyes 
toward the house, expecting to see the entire house¬ 
hold hurrying out to meet us. But we passed the 
gate, and were half up the hill, before any sign of 
life was visible. Then a great shepherd dog, scent¬ 
ing the strangers, came bounding angrily toward us. 
The next minute a frowsy-headed boy, about ten 
years old, appeared upon the hill-top, and, with 
hands in his pockets, stared at us vacantly, then 
disappeared. 

At last we gained the summit; but no one was 
in sight. The doctor took out his watch. Watches 
were necessary companions in those days, when the 
sun was so deceiving. 

“It is six o’clock,” he said. “ Perhaps the girls 
are milking.” 

We turned toward a neat little shanty, a few 


154 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


steps away, and looked in at the open door. There* 
on their low milking stools, sat the two ruddy- 
cheeked mountain maids, in pink calico gowns, and 
clean handkerchiefs tied on their yellow hair, busily 
milking the speckled cows. These were beautiful 
creatures, with fine sleeky skins, and soft, almost 
human, eyes. The shed was long and low, with 
each of its twenty-five stalls in perfect order. The 
maids glanced up as we approached, and then went 
on steadily with their work, till the bright tin pails- 
were bubbling over with the frothy liquid. 

“ Can we stay here all night? ” the doctor asked. 

The older one answered: “Perhaps so. I will 
see, when I am through milking/’ 

Bashful Peter, the sczter-boy, watched us shyly 
from behind the corner of the shed. 

“Poor fellow! I don’t suppose he has tasted 
meat since he left the valley; they rarely carry it 
with them to the mountains,” said the doctor. 

Remembering the little lunch of bread and sal¬ 
mon that we had brought with us from Lille Elvedal, 
in a spirit of magnanimity we passed it all into 
Peter’s hands — but had reason to regret our gener¬ 
osity two hours later. 

When the milking was done, we followed the 
girls as they carried the brimming pails across 
a field to a spring of water, fresh and clear, where 
the milk was kept cool. A small shed had been 


A NIGHT AT .1 NORWEGIAN SAETER. 155 


built over the spring, and a floor of clean planks 
laid down to step upon, leaving a square opening in 
the centre. Set across this from end to end, were 
stout wooden poles, from which swung the milk 
pails by the handles, with the body of the pail under 
the water. We watched the girls as they sunk the 
fresh pails in the springs; then each one took an end 
of one of the poles in her hand and lifted up other 
pails, from which were emptied out large dishes of 
cream and milk for our supper. 

These girls lived quite luxuriously in their moun¬ 
tain cottages or setters. Each cottage had two rooms. 
In the new setter were the kitchen and best bedroom. 
The kitchen seemed to have been built expressly for 
the fireplace, which occupied one entire side with 
its broad hearth and hooded chimney-mouth. 
Around on the clay floor stood the curious flat 
churn and other dairy utensils ; but there was no 
furniture. 

Two low steps led to the door opening into the 
chamber. This was not occupied by the setter- 
girls, but held in reserve for the use of visitors who 
might happen up from the valley in pleasant weather. 
As a mark of great distinction, it was assigned to 
L. and me. The floor had the usual carpet of pine 
needles ; while another young poplar-tree, as grace¬ 
ful as the one we had seen in the afternoon, filled 
the generous fireplace. We could not account for 


156 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


the peculiar, almost sickening, odor that filled the 
room, till, chancing to look up, we saw against the 
wall a high shelf laden with an orderly row of 
goats’-milk cheeses, set there to harden. In a corner 
stood the four-post bedstead with its sheepskin 
covering. 

The old sceter contained the bedroom where the 
maids slept, with a trundle-bed for Peter; and 
across a small passage-way was the “ dairy.” In the 
bedroom, which was vacated for their use, the doctor 
and his wife were comfortably installed. At the 
doctor’s request — for the evening air grew chilly on 
the mountains — the poplar-tree was taken out of 
its nook, and a yellow blaze soon went crackling up 
the sooty chimney. The light glowed in the deepen¬ 
ing twilight and danced about the walls of the room, 
where on great hooks were hung fur cloaks, snow- 
shoes, and all kinds of hunters’ weapons — powder- 
bags, guns, knapsacks, and, with them, some of the 
deer’s antlers and skins taken in the chase. 

The girls gradually lost their bashfulness, and it 
was with an air of conscious pride that they showed 
us through the dairy. The well-filled shelves that 
lined the walls proved how industrious they had 
been; for the season was as yet only half over. On 
the lower shelves, the milk was set for cream in 
shallow bowls. Golden butter, in kegs and rolls, 
neatly wrapped up, and a vast number and variety 


A NIGHT AT A NORWEGIAN SEE TER. 157 

of cheeses, all neatly arranged in their proper order, 
were pointed out for our admiration. 

While the older maid, whose round bare arms 
were a pretty match for her pink calico, was show¬ 
ing us the dairy, the younger one had slipped away 
to prepare supper in the new setter; and now she 
called to us that it was ready. The table, impro¬ 
vised from an oblong shelf, with stakes for legs, 
was spread in the best chamber. Every resource of 
the little setter had been employed in our honor. 
Table-cloth and napkins were wanting, but the four 
painted plates set before us had been taken from the 
treasured collection on the dresser; the cream in the 
deep-mouthed bowl was the richest and coolest; the 
yellow butter, neatly-arranged jlad-brod , and goats’ 
cheese, considered by Norwegians the most delicate 
variety — all were of the choicest and best. Even 
the little dish of thin butter-cakes we had noticed 
laid carefully away in the dresser had been sacrificed 
for our benefit and placed on the table. But alas, 
ungrateful creatures that we were! Even the doc¬ 
tor and his wife thought this milk and cream diet, 
interspersed with nibblings of butter, cheese, and 
jlad-brod , rather unpalatable. Yet jollity made up 
for the lack of solid comfort, and the supper passed 
off merrily. 

We retired late — though it seemed early, for in 
the gray dusk we could see easily without a candle. 


158 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


We slept on a hard straw bed, without sheets or pil¬ 
lows — our sole covering the sheep-skin rug. This 
latter might have sufficed to keep us warm had we 
been allowed to repose under it in peace, but its soft 
woolly meshes sheltered such an army of busy-bodies 
we were soon driven to throw it away and substitute 
our cloaks. 

In the morning, hastily dressing, and performing 
our ablutions in a yellow bowl with a piece of cot¬ 
ton-cloth for a towel, we hurried out-doors to see the 
maids drive the cows to pasture. The younger girl 
was already at the gate, her cheeks rosy in the 
pure fresh air, gathering her pets around her. It 
was a pretty sight — the cluster of cows, the little 
lambs and goats, trusting and fearless, rubbing 
affectionately against her dress, and running to her 
at her call. She led them away up the mountain a 
short distance, where they would have free range of 
pasturage, and then returned to the scvter. 

The cattle wander where they will all day alone ; 
but at milking-time, when far out over the silent 
fjelds rings the sweet cry of the sceter -girl — u O 
coo ! coo ! coo! ” the bell-cow stops grazing and 
starts at once for home, and all the others obediently 
follow. 

On the crown of one of the nearest mountains, 
the guide pointed to a pile of loose boulders that 
once formed an altar. Formerly the people living 


A NIGHT AT A NORWEGIAN SJETER. 159 


in the valleys separated by these lofty fjelcls, had no 
means of communication, and knew as little about 
each other’s manners, dialect, and dress, as if they 
had inhabited different planets. Then, on these 
stone altars, fires were built to warn of approaching 
danger; and as the lurid flames shot into the air 
from one peak, a fire was built quickly on the next, 
and so the news spread far and wide. 

Breakfast was a repetition of supper, with the 
addition of a small pot of unsettled coffee. Imme¬ 
diately after eating, we left — slipping into the hands 
of the girls a \m\i-Jcrone each, with a few ore to 
Peter ; upon which their faces, usually rather un- 
expressive, beamed with happiness. 

We recrossed the river in the old barge, hitched 
the horses to the carioles, and began the descent to 
the valley. Several sceter-g iris, knitting in hand, 
passed us on their way up the mountains. Behind 
them came a long line of cattle led by the bell- 
cow. The guide told a story of a cow that after 
many years was considered too old to act as leader 
any longer, and the bell was transferred from her 
neck to that of a younger animal. The old cow 
showed every sign of jealousy, and the next morn¬ 
ing her rival was found dead in the stall, the victim 
of her wrath. 

At the foot of the mountains our kind friends, 
the doctor and his wife, left us, following the cariole 


100 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


road still further into the country, while L. and I 
turned back to Lille Elvedal. We reached the hotel 
just after noon. Faint from our long fast, we hur¬ 
ried to the landlady, who was in the kitchen, and 
by emphatic gestures and doleful shakes of the head 
tried to make her understand that we w r anted lunch. 
She nodded assent, and we returned to the sitting- 
room to wait. Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed, 
and still no signs of preparation. Half-famished, 
we went back to the kitchen. There at the table sat 
Christine calmly paring potatoes for boiling. The 
pantry-door stood open, and on the shelf sat a 
plate of cold meat. Suiting our actions to words, we 
seized the plate and started to the sitting-room. In 
a flash the landlady comprehended. She rescued 
her meat, and in a very few minutes the lunch was. 
spread. 

Several days later, in Christiania, we chanced to 
read the following in a “ Guide to Norway” : 

“ Travellers planning a cariole trip into the coun¬ 
try should remember to carry with them a supply 
of canned meat and white bread — also a tin of 
English biscuits and a paper of salt, as they will 
be found indispensable supplements to the fare.” 

The caution came a little too late for us. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


IN BALTIC WATERS. 



F Christiania was a surprise to us, Stockholm was 
a greater one. We knew it to be a large and 


thriving city; but we did not expect to find such 


handsome streets and squares, such hotels, muse¬ 
ums, art-galleries, statues, — indeed, a second Paris, 
with all its improvements; or a northern Venice, 
as the guide-books call it, from the lagoons that 
intersect the suburbs with picturesque effect. We 
took delightful excursions on the pretty steamers— 
visited the museum, and saw its store of relics, 
among them the stuffed skin of the horse which 
Gustavus Adolphus was riding when shot, and his 
last suit of clothes stained with his blood. We 
sauntered through the stores, admiring the skilfully- 
carved toys and bric-a-brac , cut from pine wood, 
for which Sweden is so noted. We were shown 
through the King’s palace. Each room was fur¬ 
nished handsomely, though not extravagantly, and 
had a home-like look rarely seen in these princely 
establishments. The King’s summer parlor was 
especially attractive, with its glass roof and sides, 
shaded by cool green vines, its green carpet and 


161 


162 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


furniture, dripping fountains and blooming bowers. 
Friday was market-day, and the country-people in 
holiday dress came flocking to town. The cos¬ 
tume of the younger women was the gayest of the 
gay: a colored woollen apron over a short blue 
flannel petticoat, a light calico waist and a bodice 
with long straps fastened over the shoulders, a red 
silk handkerchief around the neck, and dangling 
from it in front a silver pin composed of tiny silver 
bangles. The head was surmounted by a tall black 
cap running to a peak, bound around the bottom 
with a bright band and with two tabs ending in 
red worsted balls falling from behind. The older 
women wore a funny little cap, barely covering the 
crown of the head, and tied under the chin. 

But a greater thought than Stockholm filled our 
minds. A friend had said to us a few days before: 

“You are going to Russia, ar’n’t you ? It would 
be too bad not to see it, when you are so near.” 

Our plan had been to return directly to Copenha¬ 
gen, stop there a few days, and then go south to 
Cologne and on to Switzerland. But it was still 
early in the season. Why not see Russia as well ? 
Would if be safe? That was our only doubt; and 
visions of cold-blooded Nihilists and lurking spies 
rose up to haunt us. 

A bright thought struck us. We would ask our 
American consul — he would surely know; and we 


IN BALTIC WATERS. 


163 


set out at once for tlie consulate, which was situated 
in a pleasant square in the upper part of the city. 
The consul was out of town, but the vice consul sat 
in the office-chair. 

“Oil, yes, it will be safe — Americans are leav¬ 
ing for Russia‘by every steamer.” 

“But ladies alone ?” we ventured. 

“Certainly, if you only visit St. Petersburg. 
You can go from there direct to Berlin. Of course 
you will not visit Moscow.” 

Forthwith we bought our passports — the first 
time we had needed them since leaving home — 
carried them to the grave Russian minister for his 
all-important signature, and the same afternoon 
went aboard the propeller “Finland.” 

After leaving the dock, our steamer wound in 
and out among the islands lying soft and green in 
the water and dotted with pretty summer-houses. 
The grass crept close to the water’s edge, and some¬ 
times a cluster of dark pines stood back on the brow, 
revealing through their openings the gables and tur¬ 
rets of some rustic cottage. 

“Don't you call this charming, now? ” cried one 
American gentleman to another. 

“Finer than the St. Lawrence,” was the enthu¬ 
siastic reply. 

We stopped at several places, the last one a queer 
little town whose red houses were presided over by 


164 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


a grandfatherly wind-mill, then steered across the 
Baltic to the shores of Finland. 

A small party of Americans were on board — 
gay, kind-hearted people. They eyed us curiously 
at first, but soon the ice was broken, and everybody 
was as friendly as possible. But native curiosity 
could not be repressed. One time as L. and I were 
sitting alone on deck, a portly gentleman of the 
party approached us. After a few casual remarks 
about the weather and scenery, lie began: 

“Going to Russia, alone, are you?” 

“Yes sir," we replied meekly. 

“ Parents living ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“I suppose they know you’ve come off here?” 

“No—we -” (intending to explain our unex¬ 

pected detour). 

“I thought so,” he interrupted. “I thought so. 
Now, my young friends,” he continued, leaning 
forward to make his words more impressive, “let 
me give you a little advice. I am older than 
you, and have seen much more of the world. 
Why—do you know? — it’s unheard of, two young 
inexperienced girls going off to Russia alone. 
Now, my advice is, see St. Petersburg, as you’ve 
started, but do it cautiously, then get out of the 
country as quick as you can — the sooner the 
better.” 



ARENTS LIVING 
































































































































IN BALTIC WATERS . 


165 


Having relieved liis conscience, Lawyer B. lit 
his cigar, stroked his mustache, and returned to 
his friends, leaving the reckless young women to 
their own devices. 

The second day out, we touched at Helsingfors, 
the capital of Finland. We had always supposed 
the Lapps and Finns to he quite on a level; but 
we found that in this we were greatly mistaken. 
Finland is not at all the forsaken, half-barbarous 
land we had pictured it. Our captain was a Finn. 
One day as we were at dinner, some one said to 
him : 

“Finland belongs to Russia, doesn’t it? ” 

“Only in name,” he answered, from the head 
of the table. “We are almost an independent 
nation — we have more liberties than the Russians 
themselves.” 

“ How is that ? ” 

He laughed a little. “ The Czar would not dare 
to treat us badly. We once belonged to Sweden ; 
and it would not take much, in case of war, to send 
us back there. The Czar knows that.” 

“But how have you more privileges than the 
Russians ? ” 

“We elect our own legislature, and make many 
of our own laws, provided they do not infringe on 
the rights of the Czar, and he is very careful not to 
limit us too much. Besides, we have our own cur- 


166 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


rency and language ; so you see we are quite sepa¬ 
rate. This ship belongs to Finland.” 

“But you sail under the Russian flag,” inter¬ 
rupted one, quietly. 

“ Yes, I must,” he said, a little bitterly. “ Fin¬ 
land has no flag.” 

Helsingfors is not an old city, but has some very 
fine public buildings. Most of the houses are built 
of brick, roughly joined together, covered with a 
coating of white plaster that resembles stone, 
and is said to be very durable. l^et Finland is 
noted for its beautiful marble, most of which is 
taken to Russia. Many of the smaller houses have 
double windows, and the ledge between them is 
filled with dried moss to keep out the cold. The 
government buildings were striking, but dazzling, 
with their pure white walls. On an eminence in the 
distance stood a large Greek church, with walls of 
red brick, cupolas capped with brazen balls, and 
roof of snowy white. This was to be painted green — 
a favorite color with the Russians. 

Strolling about the city under the hot sun, we 
were suddenly startled by the cry of fire. We fol¬ 
lowed the crowd a long distance. The firemen 
were very slow — running on foot, with the hose 
in their hands, while the water for their use was 
carried in barrels. Several cottages were burned, 


IN BALTIC WATERS. 


167 


in spite of tlie cries and bustle in trying to put out 
the flames. 

Among our passengers was a Russian family — 
a lady and gentleman in the employ of a mar¬ 
quis. They occupied the deck state-room, and at 
first kept quite aloof from the rest of the passengers 
— evidently feeling the importance of their station. 
The gentleman usually appeared in uniform, which 
made him almost handsome. They both spoke 
French, and the wife could speak also a little Eng¬ 
lish. She had the square features, black eyes and 
hair, and dead complexion of that type of Russians. 
One evening as she stood on deck talking with a 
little cluster of Americans, she took a cigarette 
from her pocket, and holding it carelessly between 
her fingers began lighting it. 

“I always feel a little awkward, smoking before 
Americans,” she said, laughing, half apologetically; 
“it is not your custom.” 

“Oh, yes, it is growing quite fashionable for 
ladies to smoke in New York,” interposed a lady 
from that city. 

“Ah, indeed! I had not heard,” madame re¬ 
plied, indifferently, and lifting her lighted cigarette 
to her lips began puffing away with a relish. 

Once while chatting about the outbreaks of the 
Nihilists, one of the company turned to the Russian 
lady with the question: 


168 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


“Is it necessary to be so careful? Are you 
ever afraid ? ” 

“Oh, no, for the country is full of officers. You 
are always watched. You may walk through the 
streets of St. Petersburg, and think no one is notic¬ 
ing you. But you are mistaken. The eyes of 
some officer are upon you, though you do not know 
it, for he wears civilian dress and mingles with 
the crowd. The authorities note the most trivial 
matters. A short time ago I attended a reception 
at the house of a marchioness, and carried my flow¬ 
ers and laces to the palace in a paper box. An 
officer at the door stopped me, and asked: ‘What 
is in that box ? ’ I told him, but he would not be 
satisfied till he had opened it, and examined it 
himself.” The lady’s dark eyes gleamed as she 
spoke. The Nihilist question seemed to have 
touched a sensitive spot. 


CHAPTER XYII. 


THE CITY OF THE GREAT CZAR. 


~TTT*E were three days in crossing the Baltic and 
* * the Gulf of Finland — touching often at 
small towns on the Finnish coast. Toward evening 
of the last day, we came in sight of the environs of 
St. Petersburg. A feeling almost of awe im¬ 
pressed us as we noiselessly glided over those still 
cold waters toward the u City of the Great Czar.” 
We stood on the bow of the steamer—a little party 
of Americans, bound together by the ties of native- 
land, gazing at the frowning fortress of Cronstadt 
now so near, or watching the flash of St. Isaac’s 
gilded dome sixteen miles away. 

Cronstadt, the seaport of St. Petersburg, is 
strongly fortified by two forts hewn out of the solid 
rock and heavily garrisoned. They face each other 
at the entrance of the port, and as we sailed between 
them their guns pointed ominously at us. The masts 
of a thousand ships rose above the granite docks, 
and at anchor in the harbor was a man-of-war, just 
returned from Sweden, where it had been sent by 
the Czar to bring over his royal visitors, the king 
and queen of Greece. 


169 


170 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


It was ten o’clock. The sun had at last gone 
down, and the twilight was slowly fading into dusk 
as the “Finland” glided to her wharf and threw 
her ropes to the moorings. We spent the night on 
the boat, and next morning waited several tedious 
hours for the customs officers to appear. They were 
tall stern-visaged men, and did their work with 
unprecedented vigor. Every piece of baggage was 
mercilessly overhauled ; even our innocent-looking 
satchels did not escape, but received a thorough 
ransacking from top to bottom. Books and papers 
aroused special suspicion. Finally, one of the offi¬ 
cers, diving into the depths of my bag, brought 
out a mutilated Italian newspaper a year old, pock¬ 
eted it with the air of a man who had done his 
whole duty, and forthwith dismissed us. 

The Hotel d’Angleterre, in Isaac’s Place, is 
unpretentious from the outside but very spacious 
and European within. Once installed in our rooms, 
our first business, after obtaining permission to 
remain in the city by having our passports vised by 
the proper officer, was to engage a courier. At a 
word from the hall porter, an eager array of appli¬ 
cants presented themselves — Russian, English, 
French, and German. We chose an honest-looking 
German, rather gray and bent, but very intelligent 
and obliging; and under his friendly guidance we 
prepared to enjoy St. Petersburg. 


TEE CITY OF TEE GREAT CZAR. 171 

Our first pilgrimage was to St. Isaac’s, one of the 
most splendid ol Russian churches. It is a marvel 
of richness, with its massive dome capped with pure 
gold, its granite foundation of fabulous cost, and its 
wealth of bronzes, statuary, and variegated mar¬ 
bles. At six o’clock, a jangle of bells announced 
the hour for service. We crossed the square and 
mounted the polished steps. Just under the portico, 
half in the shadow, stood a row of strange forbid¬ 
ding-looking objects, which a second glance showed 
to be men. They wore long dark gowns of some 
coarse texture, and straw sandals. Their hair fell 
in a tangled snarl around their shoulders, and 
matched their coal-black eyes which were turned 
eagerly upon us. Each one held in his hand a copper 
plate, and as we passed thrust it toward us with 
a succession of bows and grimaces, all the more 
frightful because no sound accompanied them. Just 
inside the church door, we were confronted by a row 
of begging nuns, in sable gowns, and tall beaver 
hats draped with long lace veils. The nuns were as 
impassive as the men had been impassioned, and 
stood in a stiff line against the wall, holding out 
their plates with a look which seemed to say, “ For 
the righteousness of our cause, you will surely con¬ 
tribute.” 

The interior of the great church was wrapped in 
shadow, for the high stained windows are simply 


172 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


ornamental, and candles furnished the only light. 
We lingered a moment to admire the gilded domes, 
rich frescoes, carvings, and mirror-like walls; then 
crossed the marble floor and took a stand in front 
of the altar among the already numerous worship¬ 
pers. Others came hurrying in — men, women, 
and children, mostly of the poorer classes. Priests 
and people faced the sanctuary doors, the priests 
in elegantly embroidered robes of green or yellow, 
and jewelled mitres from beneath which their 
flowing locks of gray hair streamed nearly to their 
waist. The sacred portals are of the most elab¬ 
orate workmanship. These and the altar-railing 
around them are overlaid with solid silver. It 
is believed that only after many prayers have 
been offered by the priests and congregation will 
Heaven graciously condescend to open these doors 
leading to the inner sanctuary. Three times during 
the service we saw the doors swing silently open, 
revealing a glitter of glass and silver, and a large 
window-painting of the Ascension of Christ in the 
rear. Ho images are allowed in the Greek churches, 
but their places are supplied by has relief , and by pict¬ 
ures of the Madonna and child set in frames of gold 
studded with precious stones—diamonds, rubies, 
pearls, and sapphires. The lights were furnished 
by the people ; each person brought a candle, and on 
entering the church carried it at once to the warder 





THEY SWAYED THEMSELVES BACK AND FORTH, THEIR RAVEN 


LOCKS FLYING THROUGH THE AIR 


































































THE CITY OF TIIE GREAT CZAR. 


173 


in charge, who lit it and placed it in its socket in a 
circular frame. The worshippers then kissed one of 
the altar-pictures — mothers lifting up their little 
children and babies— and stepping back a few paces 
in front of the holy doors, began bowing and making 
the sign of the cross. The more devout knelt upon 
the cold marble floor during the entire service. It 
was a strange scene — the spacious church wrapped 
in shadows, the pale candle-light, the white faces of 
the people, and their earnest and absorbed worship. 
The men would have appeared ludicrous anywhere 
else. Their hair was very dark and cut squarely at 
the neck. As they swayed themselves rapidly back 
and forth, their raven locks were sent flying through 
the air — now streaming about them like a halo, 
now falling down into position. The singing was 
fine, and for the most part performed by men 
dressed in soldiers' uniform. Once during the ser¬ 
vice a contribution was taken. Four persons formed 
in line, and passed among the people. First came a 
priest, with a lighted candle fastened to his ephod ; 
then a little girl, robed like a choir boy; and 
lastly, two men in official costume, each carrying a 
copper box. We stayed an hour and a half; and 
then, too tired to. stand any longer—for no one is 
allowed to sit in a Greek church—we crept away. 
A Russian told us afterwards that the service would 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


m 

continue late into the evening, while the people 
came and went. 

St. Petersburg is still pervaded by the spirit and 
genius of its great founder, Peter the Great, who 
built it and gave it his name. Hevski Prospect is 
the principal thoroughfare. It is broad and ani¬ 
mated, and extends three miles and a half, from the 
Admiralty at one end to the monastery of St. Alex¬ 
ander Nevski at the other. Stores, churches, and 
palaces, all gorgeous with color, follow each other 
in quick succession. Everything is on a grand 
scale. The palaces are royal indeed. They are 
built after the Finnish style of architecture — of 
stone or brick, overlaid with plaster. The walls 
are colored the delicate tints of the rainbow, and 
the wdiole is highly ornamented in stucco. The 
churches are large and handsome; but their glory 
is in their domes. These are either five or nine in 
number, rising gracefully around a central one, and 
all are highly-colored. Some, like St. Isaac’s, are 
capped with gold, or gilded to give the same effect. 
Many are green ; others a light blue, sprinkled with 
gilded stars; and in some cases every one of the 
nine domes shines with a different color. The effect 
under the bright rays of the meridian sun can well 
be imagined. 

The stores are not the least objects of interest. 
On the counter stands a reckoning-machine — an 


THE CITY OF THE GREAT CZAR. 


175 


oblong frame, with wires stretched across from end 
to end, and strung with little wooden buttons. 
These are of different colors, to distinguish the 
quantities ; and it is amusing and curious to see how 
rapidly the practised hand of the clerk will measure 
them off. The reckoning-machine was introduced by 
Peter the Great, and is still very generally used, 
from preference, as a quicker mode of computation. 

But it is the outside walls that give character to 
the stores. Sign-painting is an art in Russia. Rows 
of large Russian characters, all the more striking to 
a foreigner for being unintelligible, surround sam¬ 
ple-pictures of the merchants’ stock in trade — cattle 
and poultry for the butcher, cloaks and caps for the 
tailor, hacks and droskies for the carriage-maker, 
butter and teas and fruits for the grocer. These 
objects are painted on a brilliant background in 
their natural size and color. The sidewalks were 
thronged with people of the lower and middle 
classes — for most of the nobility had left the city 
for their cool country-seats. Beggars were numer¬ 
ous, especially women and children, who had a way 
of planting themselves before us with folded arms 
and bowing silently back and forth — walking as we 
walked, and giving us no rest till we had satisfied 
their demands. 

One of the most curious street sights was the 
funeral processions. The coffin rested on an open 


176 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


hearse drawn by black horses, and was draped with 
a black velvet mantle, heavily embroidered, which 
hung nearly to the ground. On a seat in front sat 
the driver — a man of melancholy countenance, his 
long locks of black hair falling from under his high 
hat and spreading around the sombre mantle that 
enveloped him. Behind walked a straggling com¬ 
pany of mourners, the women in black veils and 
gowns. As the gloomy procession passed, all hats 
were respectfully raised. 

Along the walls of the Nevski Prospect stand 
many little temples that resemble a single dome 
from one of the churches, set on the ground and 
encircled by walls. Nearly every native who passes 
in front of these temples lifts his hat and makes the 
sign of the cross. The more pious stop a few mo¬ 
ments to pray, standing outside on the street, or 
going within if their devotions are longer. 

On a side-street, several yards from the busiest 
part of Nevski Prospect, is a temple somewhat larger 
and handsomer than the others. This marks the 
spot where the late Czar Alexander fell when the 
fatal bomb struck him. We stood some minutes 
watching the people as they hurried to and fro. 
Nearly all passed by reverently ; only now and 
then one walked on without any recognition. The 
guide led us along the road over which they carried 


THE CITY OF THE GREAT CZAR. 


ITT 


the Czar from the scene of the tragedy to his 
palace. 

“That was a terrible day,” said the old man, 
with a shudder ; “and all the way,” indicating the 
line with his finger, “the snow was stained with 
the Czar’s blood.” 

The Winter Palace stands on the banks of the 
Neva, massive and imposing, with leather-colored 
walls highly ornamented. Since the explosion in 
the royal dining-room, whose windows overlook the 
river, the palace has been guarded more carefully 
than ever ; and it is a common saying in St. Peters¬ 
burg that one cannot get into the Winter Palaca 
“for love or money.” Adjoining the palace, and 
connected with it by a passage-way, is the “ Hermit¬ 
age ” of Queen Catherine. But its name gives no 
idea of its real character ; for instead of its being a 
hermit’s abode, it is a magnificent palace. Queen 
Catherine used it, as Marie Antoinette did the 
Trianon at Versailles, as a place where she could 
retire from the conventionalities of public life, and 
amuse herself with her favorite pursuits in seclusion 
and quiet. Each apartment in the Hermitage shone 
with the costliest decorations. In the lower stories 
the walls and floor were inlaid with different varie¬ 
ties and tints of marbles ; in one room they were 
emerald — in the next, pale blue — in the next, 

pink or gray. In one hall was a fine museum of 
12 


178 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


relics from Pompeii. Up-stairs were the galleries 
of paintings, rich in gems of Italian masters, besides 
many of the choicest specimens of Russian art, and, 
best of all, a collection of Rembrandt’s pictures, 
said to be the finest and most complete in Europe. 
Finally, the guardian led us to a long corridor de¬ 
voted to relics of Peter the Great. There were many 
pieces of elaborately-carved furniture — his own 
handiwork: the lumbering coach he used to ride 
in, some of his clothes, a quantity of his workshop 
tools, and many other much-used articles — among 
them the heavy iron cane with which he was wont 
to rap his offending ministers over the head. Half¬ 
way down the corridor sat in state a colossal wax 
figure of Peter himself. Formerly this figure was 
so attached to machinery that when anyone stepped 
upon a certain plank in the floor, Peter rose to his 
feet as if in greeting; but this unexpected apparition 
so startled one old lady that she fell in a fit, and 
after that the practice was discarded. 

At the end of the corridor, the porter took a key 
from his pocket and unlocked a door which led to a 
handsome room with decorated walls, waxed floor, 
and furniture concealed under white coverings. 
Through an archway we had a glimpse of a still 
more elegant apartment beyond, and long windows 
looking out upon the Neva. 


THE CITY OF TEE GREAT CZAR. 179 

“ Oh ! ” I exclaimed, running toward them, “ here 
is the river! ” 

The porter caught my sleeve and hurried us 
back to the corridor, shut and locked the door, and 
slipped the key into his pocket, with a grim smile. 
He had opened the door into the Winter Palace! 

The royal family were at Peterhoff, a pleasant 
resort on the shore of the main-land bordering the 
Gulf of Finland. One afternoon we made a trip 
there on one of the pretty excursion steamers. 
After we had found seats in a breezy spot on deck, 
our courier startled us with the remark : 

u You may be sitting next to a detective.” 

“ Why ? ” 

“Because there are always four or five on these 
boats. They sit among the people and listen to 
what they are saying without their knowing it.” 

In an hour we came in sight of Peterhoff. The 
Czar did not occupy the palace on the grounds, but 
lived in a modest white house set apart in a quiet 
grove, guarded on the land side by a picket-fence 
and stationed sentinels, and from the water by two 
armed men-of-war that are always anchored a few 
rods off shore. A crowd of carriages awaited the 
steamer’s arrival at the landing. Many of the 
horses were beautiful animals, and very spirited. 
Black was the favorite color. The Russian cab-man 
dresses in a navy-blue caftan or gown, with a full 


180 


WE TWO A LONE IN EUROPE. 


heavy skirt bound by a colored girdle. When he is 
coachman in some wealthy family, this caftan is new 
and well-fitting, and as he sits erect on his seat, 
holding the lines in both hands, with the folds of 
his gown falling about his feet, he makes a fine fig¬ 
ure. But the common drosky-man, in his faded 
half-worn robe, is far from handsome. The drosky 
is a small, light vehicle, with a seat barely wide 
enough to accommodate two persons. 

We shall always remember Peterhoff for its 
beautiful fountains. They are among its chief 
attractions. One fountain starts from the foot of 
the palace, and flows in a little channel to the 
gulf; another spouts from the leaves of an artifi¬ 
cial tree ; still another falls in graceful sheets of 
spray around a miniature Greek temple. They are 
scattered all through the grounds, and we were 
always coming upon them in the most unexpected 
and charming places. 

The king and queen of Greece were guests at 
the Peterhoff palace. We saw two of their retinue 
— a priest in purple velvet robe and mitre, and a 
page in scarlet knickerbockers and embroidered 
jacket. 

Not far from the parade-grounds — where we 
stopped a while to listen to the lively music and 
watch the gay crowds of civilians and militia prome¬ 
nading to and fro — is a small brick house once 


TI1E CITY OF THE GREAT CZAR. 


181 


occupied by Peter the Great. It was closed to vis¬ 
itors, but we peered through the windows at the low 
frescoed ceilings and gilded panels of the deserted 
rooms. But the most interesting relic of the great 
Peter is across the river from St. Petersburg, on 
Fortress Island. There we saw the little cottage, 
rude indeed, but perfect in all its parts, which the 
Czar built entirely himself, and where he lived 
while founding St. Petersburg. The house contains 
only three small rooms, one of which is now used 
as a chapel. All the heavy oaken furniture, with its 
curious carving, and the sailing vessel preserved as 
a special treasure in an outside corridor, are the 
work of the owner. 

Peter the Great, with the long dynasty of queens 
and princes following him, is buried in the cathedral 
of St. Peter and St. Paul, within the protecting walls 
of the fortress. This, like all Eussian churches, 
is richly decorated, while from the ceiling float 
scores of handsome silken banners. In strange con¬ 
trast with the glitter around them are the tombs 
themselves. These are of plain granite — their only 
adornment being the simple wreath of laurel leaves 
in bronze, wrought upon a smooth surface. Most 
of the tombs are placed in family groups, inclosed by 
a low iron railing. Only on the tombs of the assas¬ 
sinated Czar and his consort are kept garlands of 
fresh flowers and candles burning night and day. 


182 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


All around and covering the walls of the church 
behind them are placed the wreaths and other offer¬ 
ings sent by the monarchs of Europe for the Czar’s 
funeral. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


HOLY MOSCOW. 


/CHANCING to meet the American consul one 
morning in the hotel parlor, he remarked in¬ 
quiringly : 

4 4 Going to Moscow, of course ? ” 

“No.” 

“What! not going to Moscow? Then never 
say you’ve seen Russia.” 

This was a new idea. We closeted ourselves for 
a fresh consultation, and settled the matter late that 
afternoon by sending our passports to the proper 
official for his signature and permit to leave the 
city. Hurrying ourselves and baggage into a 
drosky, we whirled down to the station to meet the 
evening express. This is the popular train for Mos¬ 
cow, going through in fourteen hours. There were 
four classes of coaches, each class painted differ¬ 
ently, to distinguish it in the dark. Some of the 
coaches were furnished with chairs, like our Amer¬ 
ican palace cars; others were divided into compart¬ 
ments opening into a narrow passage-way at one 
side. The sleepers were of this style, each little 
compartment being curtained off by itself. The 

183 


184 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


first-class coaches were handsomely cushioned, and 
furnished with every convenience — mirrors, elec¬ 
tric bells, even the match-safe in the compartments 
reserved exclusively for ladies: for all Russians, 
both men and women, smoke. 

The railway stations are in the outskirts of 
the city; and as we steamed rapidly away, the 
familiar landmarks faded from sight, till only the 
glittering spire of the Admiralty and the golden 
dome of St. Isaac's gleamed in the distance. It was 
only seven, and we had still three hours before 
dark. The road between St. Petersburg and Mos¬ 
cow is “as the crow flies.” The story of its con¬ 
struction is well known. According to the popular 
version, when the engineers had so designed the 
route that by occasional turnings it would pass 
through several prominent towns, they submitted it 
to the Emperor Nicholas. 

u Bring me a map ! ”■ cried the autocrat, pushing 
aside the papers. 

The map was brought. 

“ Where is Moscow ? ” 

“There, your Majesty.” 

“ And where is St. Petersburg? ” 

“ Here, Sire.” 

“Then,” exclaimed the Czar, drawing a straight 
line between the cities, “ make the railroad there ! ” 
Our journey had been described as “A terribly 


HOLY 310SCOW. 


185 


dull ride — nothing to see by the way”; but we 
greatly enjoyed it. The gorgeous sunset behind 
the dark firs, and the vast stretches of undulating 
plains, more like the unbounded sweep of prairie in 
our own loved land than anything we had seen since 
leaving home, may have helped to make it attract¬ 
ive. There was scarcely a ridge of rising ground 
to break the uniformity of broad flat surface, but a 
soft carpet of bright green covered it, growing 
around the ditches and creeping close up to the 
railway track. 

Near the stations were gathered a few scattered 
houses of peasants. They were modest little cot- 
tages — the dwelling, barn, and store-house either 
joined together or very near each other ; and all 
invariably had a neglected poverty-stricken air, 
pitiful to see. The walls of the houses were dark 
and scarred with age ; the turf roof slanting low 
over the eaves, to protect from the winter winds. 
In striking contrast to the house was the bit of 
cultivated ground about it, which was always laid 
out with the greatest care, the neat rows of bright 
and dark green vegetables making a pretty picture 
against the black turf, the whole warmed by the 
soft yellow radiance of the setting sun. Whenever 
the train stopped, a crowd of noisy passengers 
surged into the restaurant. Some quaffed foaming 
glasses of beer or stronger beverages, while others 


186 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


sipped their tea flavored with a bit of lemon, hold¬ 
ing the cup in one hand and a lump of sugar in 
the other, the sugar never being dissolved in the 
cup. The only fruit we saw was some small sickly- 
looking pears. 

There is something unnatural about the poor 
Russian children,—they are so serious and mature, 
so unlike the frolicsome sprites of other lands. At 
one of the stations a little boy came out of a cottage 
near by and walked toward the train. He wore a 
loose soiled gown, reaching to his ankles, with 
coarse sandals wrapped around his feet and fastened 
with strips of cloth and twine. Standing still a 
minute, he turned his dark anxious eyes from one 
group of interested faces to another; then, making 
three times the sign of the cross upon his breast, 
began bowing back and forth, moving his body with 
the regularity of a little automaton. Only occa¬ 
sionally he stopped between the motions to hold out 
his hand with a supplicating grimace for money. 
When it was tossed to him he stooped and picked it 
up eagerly; then, straightening himself again, but 
with never the glimmer of a smile, he repeated 
several times the sign of the cross, and walked 
solemnly back to his home. 

The night slipped quietly away, and next morn¬ 
ing we woke with a flood of light streaming about 
us. We were very near “holy Moscow.” All 


HOLY MOSCOW. 


187 


around us swept tlie hot, dry plain. In vain we 
searched for a cooling river or green hill to rest our 
eyes upon. Yet many little wild-flowers grew along 
the track, as fresh and glad-faced as if the skies had 
not been molten. Eagerly we watched for a first 
glimpse of the old Muscovite capital. Suddenly 
came a blinding flash — then another and another, 
and the domes of the great city were in full view. 
With fluttering hearts we counted our baggage and 
tried to calm ourselves for the arrival. A shrill 
shriek from the whistle, and our train rumbled 
heavily into the station. 

Clamor and confusion filled the air. The car 
doors were thrown open, and a crowd of animated 
blue blouses surrounded us. We tried to speak, 
but the only responses wafted back to us were the 
meaningless “ Da! da! da! ” [“Yes! yes! yes!’’] 
One man started off with a shawl-strap, another 
with a satchel, another with an umbrella, still 
another with a guide-book; while, powerless to 
resist, we screamed in each sooty ear, with the 
energy of despair — “Hotel Billo ! Hotel Billo ! ” 

We followed the last man, elbowing our way 
among the trunks and people, and several minutes 
later found ourselves, to our intense relief, comfort¬ 
ably seated in an open hack with our baggage beside 
us. On the seat in front, statue-like, sat the driver, 
in blue gown faded and baggy, while from the 


188 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


pavement below a dozen dirty hands were thrust in 
our faces and a dozen pair of black eyes were raised 
greedily to ours. For once we did not expostulate, 
but paid whatever was demanded, glad to escape on 
any terms. The horses were whipped up, and we 
rattled noisily over the roughly-paved street, while 
carts and droskies drove briskly past us, and crowds 
of people of every sort lined the walks. The streets 
of this quaint old city go up and down, around and 
about, in a very curious and confusing manner. 

Turning a corner, we found ourselves at our 
hotel. No sooner had we touched the threshold 
than kind friends gathered about to welcome us and 
congratulate us on our safe arrival. We had come 
on the same train, but had been separated in the 
confusion at the station. In the hall the proprietor 
greeted us. He was a tall, fine-looking Eussian, 
with the typical black hair and eyes. As we ap¬ 
proached, he threw out his long arms, and flourished 
in our faces a telegram which, in a confused jumble 
of words, he attempted to tell us was the one an¬ 
nouncing our coming. He seemed greatly excited, 
and in the midst of the tirade we turned away and 
followed the porter to our rooms. 

“Queer man, isn’t he?” whispered L. on the 
stairs. “ I believe he is crazy.” 

“Nonsense ! ” I answered ; “ they wouldn’t have 


a crazy proprietor.” 


HOLY MOSCOW ,. 


189 


But indeed he was crazy. His peculiar actions 
compelled this admission from the porter, but 
u harmless—perfectly harmless,” he assured us, 
when, with one hand on our satchels, we turned 
to flee from the place. Seeking the advice of our 
friends, they assured us that the Hotel Billo was 
the best in the city, that there was not the least 
danger, and that it would be a great trouble to 
change ; so we decided to stay. 

But alack for the hour wherein we chanced to 
flail upon the path of that landlord! Immediately 
those long arms would begin to flourish, and a vol¬ 
ley of unintelligible jargon be poured into our ears, 
from which there seemed no escape. Sometimes, 
as we were quietly breakfasting in the dining-room, 
he would rush excitedly in to scold some offending 
domestic, perhaps wildly brandishing the bread- 
knife in his hand. 

Another peculiarity of this hotel was the men- 
servants that haunted the upper halls. They were 
brawny fellows, with the usual quantity of heavy 
black hair cut square across the neck. They wore 
black trousers, with black vest over a flaming red 
flannel shirt. Back and forth they strode through 
the long corridors, with folded arms and solemn 
visage, employing themselves, when they had noth¬ 
ing else to do, in arranging their jetty locks with the 
brush and comb left on the hall stand for the use of 


190 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


visitors. These men answered the calls from the 
rooms, as there were no chambermaids. But no 
matter how much we might be expecting them, it 
was always a startling apparition, on opening the 
door, to find one of these tall Russians gazing down 
at us with his keen eyes. We did not discover one 
of them who could speak a word of English, but 
made known our wishes as best we could, by ges¬ 
tures, which were always followed by a u da-da-da ” 
of intelligence. 

Our room chanced to be quite removed from our 
friends, on an upper floor, at the end of a long hall; 
but it was very airy and pleasant. One night we 
were greatly frightened by hearing strange noises in 
the corridor — a tumult of scuffling and pushing and 
pounding, stifled cries, sounds as if some one were 
being thrown down, beating against the walls, rat¬ 
tling of door-knobs, and a variety of fearful and 
unaccountable noises. But one thought possessed 
us: the servants had conspired, imprisoned the 
crazy landlord, and were now going to rob and 
murder everybody in the house. In the morning 
all was serene as ever. The waiters smiled placidly, 
and not a trace of the terrible conflict was in the 
air. A clue to the nocturnal disturbance was found 
in the sudden disappearance of the landlord. A 
few inquiries of the clerk cleared up the mystery. 
They had imprisoned the proprietor the day before, 


HOLY 310SCOW. 


191 


but during tlie night he had managed to escape, and 
the noises arose from their efforts to recapture him. 

If St. Petersburg was sultry, Moscow was a 
furnace. The nobility had sought cooler resorts, 
but the dusty streets swarmed with the poorer 
classes — beggars, peddlers, cab-drivers, the latter 
in faded gowns as if the midsummer sun had 
bleached every particle of color out of them. It 
was especially amusing to watch the people as they 
collected in front of the little booths in the square 
just outside of the Kremlin gates. Ragged and 
dirty, in striking contrast with the glare and glit¬ 
ter around them, they hovered over their dingy 
wares — curious little trinkets, glass charms, straw 
sandals, bits of jewelry and sacred bread — all the 
while chattering away like magpies in their harsh 
crisp native tongue. 

However Europeanized Moscow may have be¬ 
come since the great fire, it is a strange old city, 
more Asiatic than European still. It seems a per¬ 
fect jumble of narrow and uneven streets, with 
miserable shanties under the very eaves of splendid 
churches and gorgeous palaces. 

Some of the dingiest little shops on the shaded 
side of the street looked like gloomy dungeons. 
The floor was usually one or two steps below the 
pavement, and all one could see was a shadow of 
various sorts of wares about the door, and a half- 


192 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


dozen or more lazy unshaven men lounging on the 
door-step, or quarrelling in loud angry tones. But 
if the interior was uninviting the outer walls were 
as gaudy as a menagerie. Whole cart-loads of 
gayly-painted animals, life-size, dry-goods, suits of 
clothes, groceries, carriages, stood out with a gor¬ 
geousness that put St. Petersburg far in the shade. 
Even the better class of shops were curious. Many 
of them lined the opposite sides of a covered pas¬ 
sage-way, and branched off in different directions 
like a continuous arcade. We were disappointed to 
find that Russian leather was little cheaper than at 
home. The Russian embroidery is odd, but beau¬ 
tiful, and quite costly. It is made up into 
towels, aprons, and sacques. The wrists and neck¬ 
bands of men’s shirts are embroidered in a very 
ornamental way. An American lady bought enough 
drapery to furnish a bed-room — window-curtains, 
bed-spread, towels, and bureau hangings. 

The interest of Moscow centres in the Kremlin. 
This was the old citadel, and stands in the middle 
of the city, surrounded by w T alls two miles in cir¬ 
cumference. It is the only part of old Moscow 
that was not destroyed in the great conflagra¬ 
tion. We entered by “The Redeemer’s Gate.” 
Over it hangs a sacred picture of the Saviour, that 
has been there since Moscow was founded. Many 
times enemies have tried to destroy it, but 


HOLY MO SCO W. 


193 


“Heaven has miraculously delivered it from their 
hands.” As we passed under the picture, our 
driver reverently removed his hat — for every Rus¬ 
sian must do this, from the Emperor down to his 
meanest subject. Even strangers are expected to 
pay the image the same token of respect. 

The Kremlin is a miniature city. It has its 
churches, palaces, arsenal, tower, and museums, 
all thrown together without any apparent plan ; 
while from above gleams a perfect sea of gilded 
domes, turrets, spires, and watch-tower, in dazzling 
and confusing picturesqueness. There are a great 
number of old cannon, relics of famous battles, 
many of them captured from the French army after 
the retreat had begun. 

We visited several of the old churches — rich in 

the gold and silver and precious gems adorning the 

altar-pictures. This wealth of riches must be a 

great temptation to the poor people. Some one 

says: “I believe one or two persons have taken a 

diamond or so in their teeth when they have kissed 

the picture, but they have usually been caught in 

time to save the diamond.” The Russian guardian, 

in his official robe, walked gravely before us, 

stopping every few minutes to point out some 

special beauty, or pull aside a faded silk curtain to 

let us peep through the grating at some precious 

relics — a bit of the Saviour’s robe, a nail from His 
13 


194 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


cross, a little model of Mount Sinai in gold, and 
many others. The “ Church of the Redeemer in 
the Woods” is the oldest in the Kremlin, and in 
Moscow. It was much like the others, only more 
shadowy and cobwebbed, and dressed about the 
walls and ceilings with awnings of faded silken 
banners taken in war. 

We climbed the tower of Ivan Veliki, for a view 
of Moscow. The old tower has over forty bells of 
different sizes hung about it, like the chimes on a 
Chinese pagoda. But the most gigantic of them 
all, the u Czar bell,” as it is called, rests on a 
pedestal at the side of the tower. This monster is 
very old. It was once suspended in a very high 
tower; but during a fire it fell and sunk into the 
earth, where for a hundred years it lay unknown 
and forgotten. At last it was exhumed and placed 
where it now stands, a few feet from the ground. 
The “Czar” was once used as a chapel, and there 
is a small piece broken out from one side large 
enough for a man to enter without lowering his 
head. Half way up the tower of Ivan Veliki, 
we stopped to look in at the door of a little chapel 
where only men are allowed to worship. 

It was a hot climb to the summit, 270 feet, but 
when at last we stood breathless on the top step, 
what a scene lay before us! It was just noon, and 
the sun from the zenith shone down with all its 


HOLY MOSCOW. 


195 


fervor upon the vast unprotected plain. This 
rolled away in all directions; while below and 
about us, like a billowy ocean, lay that wonderful 
door of domes. Moscow is said to contain over 
four hundred churches. Imagine these, all gor¬ 
geous with color, quivering and flashing in the 
noonday sun, and the whole set in bold relief by 
the dead level of grassy plain about it, intersected 
by the river Moskva ! 

Just outside the Kremlin walls, stands the 
strangest old church in all Russia—St. Basil. Its 
walls are many-hued, and its numberless domes are 
fancifully shaped like pine-apples, artichokes, pears, 
and melons. St. Basil was built by Ivan the Ter¬ 
rible, who, after it was finished, had the architect’s 
eyes put out, that he might never see to build 
another. 

The interior, instead of being one large church, 
is divided into a number of little chapels. Under 
each dome is a chapel, where a service may be car¬ 
ried on independently of all the others. Against 
one of the walls hangs a rude figure of Christ on 
the Cross — the only image we saw in any of the 
Russian churches. 

But the queen of eastern temples is the new 
Cathedral of St. Saviour. It stands on a slight emi¬ 
nence, and is the first object one looks for on entering 
Moscow, and the last to dazzle his eyes on leaving it. 


190 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


St. Saviour was built to commemorate the defeat of 
Napoleon in 1812 ; and a noble monument it is. 
But its pure white marble walls, its splendid gold- 
capped domes, and its beautiful portal of Siberian 
jasper, wonderful as they are, give little idea of the 
surpassing beauty of the interior. It seems as if 
the wealth of all nations had been lavished on this 
one church. Like all Russian churches, it is in the 
form of a Greek cross ; and it can accommodate ten 
thousand people. Its walls and floor shine with 
variegated marbles, the most rare and costly—jasper 
from Siberia, malachite and lapis lazuli from Russia, 
porphyry from Italy, rich gems from the treasure- 
houses of Greece and Spain. The polished floor, 
almost too lovely to tread upon, was a gift from the 
Shah of Persia. The altar is overlaid with silver. 
Diamonds, and all manner of precious stones, glis¬ 
ten by the myriad in the heavy golden frames of 
the altar-pictures. Around the domes are gilt 
mosaics and frescoes, and adorning the central dome 
is a large picture of the Trinity. In the galleries 
above, where the ladies may sit — for they are not 
allowed below,— is a continuation of brilliant mar¬ 
bles and glittering adornings. From the gilded 
railings sweep many silken banners, richly embroid¬ 
ered. Qf course all this cost a fabulous amount, 
and it is no wonder the Russian commonalty is 
poor. 


HOLY 310SCOW. 


197 


St. Saviour was jealously guarded, for within its 
walls was soon to be celebrated the coronation of 
the Czar. We were only able to visit it through a 
special permit. Attempts had already been made 
to blow up the building, and the Nihilists had even 
succeeded in killing the beautiful white horses in 
training for the Czar’s own chariot. “But,” con¬ 
tinued the keen-eyed guide, leaning against the 
altar-railing, and lowering his voice to a mysterious 
whisper, “other horses have been selected, and put 
where the fiends will not be likely to touch them.” 

One of the chief attractions of Moscow was the 
National Exposition, then open. Moscow has a dry 
and parched aspect in summer — the sun shines so 
warm, the many-colored domes are so bright, and 
there are so few pleasant fountains and grass-plats 
to cool and refresh it; but the exposition-buildings 
lay on the outskirts of the city, and were reached by a 
long, broad, straight road, that seemed to lead away 
to the cool meadows in the country. The roadside in 
front of the gate was lined with droskies, while the 
drosky-men lounged lazily on the grass near by. 
Once inside the grounds, we could almost imagine 
we were visiting our own Centennial Exhibition on 
a small scale. There were pretty flower-beds, grav¬ 
elled walks, good carriage-roads, a little steam-car 
that made a circuit of the buildings, rolling-chairs, 
cafes, and bands of musicians playing enlivening 


198 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


strains. The main hall might have been modelled 
after our own, it resembled it so much. Here were 
specimens of industry from every province in Rus¬ 
sia. Hot the least striking were great hides of 
unstained Russian leather, and around, on cases 
and tables, quantities of useful and ornamental 
articles made from it. There was a profusion of 
ornaments in jasper, lapis lazuli, and malachite 
— rings set with turquoise and Polish garnets, 
chains and bracelets of amber, and rare Russian 
bronzes. Many little booths were draped with 
hangings of Russian embroidery, and were tended 
by pretty girls dressed in gay costumes of the 
same material. The carriage department exhib¬ 
ited every variety of vehicle, from the heavy 
barouche to the single-seated low sledge or four- 
wheeled racer, with a painted plank thrown across 
the thills. The fluffy robes of bear-skin spread over 
the sledges and the gay trappings on the wooden 
horses suggested merry sports in winter. Then 
came a model of a school-room, with its little yellow 
desks and maps; various costumes of the peasantry; 
a curious peasant dwelling made of short stakes set 
in the ground and spread over with canvas; fishers’ 
boats and nets; a variety of pianos, all in white 
cases; a fac-simile of Moscow before it was burned; 
and lastly the art-gallery, most interesting of all. 

As we were eating dinner in the porch of the 


HOLY 310SCOW. 


199 


cafe, a party of merry maids with their escorts 
came tripping by. The girls were dressed in cherry- 
colored satin, and fancy head-gears decked with a 
profusion of ribbons, laces, and flowers. As they 
stood chatting together, the young men took from 
their pockets some cigarettes, lighted them, and 
handed one to each of the girls, who took it with 
a gesture of thanks. 

When we left Moscow, it was by the same mem¬ 
orable route over which Napoleon retraced his way 
to Paris. Almost every foot of the ground was 
eloquent with that terrible history. In Poland we 
were struck with the richness of the soil, and the 
care with which it was cultivated ; though the farm¬ 
ers were laboriously cutting down the grain with 
the old-time hand-sickle. At the stations we saw 
the Polish Jews—forlorn, miserable-looking men, 
with a scanty lock of black hair combed down in a 
curl in front of each ear. Hardy-cheeked Polanders 
bid each other good-bye with a smart smack on 
the lips and then on the hand. The girls had 
heavy, fine hair ; but in many cases it was clipped 
close to the head, and its place supplied wfith a wig. 

“It seems strange,” we said. 

“Why, don’t you remember?” exclaimed one of 
our party ; “it is in Poland the girls cut off their 
hair to sell it.” 

We stopped a day in Warsaw — wandered 


200 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


through some of its old churches and fine parks, 
visited the still beautiful palace of Prince Sobieski, 
and then were off again. It was dark when we 
reached the Russian frontier. A tall officer, lan¬ 
tern in hand, swung open the door of our compart¬ 
ment, and asked for our passports. They had been 
examined and signed when we left Moscow; but that 
would not take us out of Russia. It seemed to us 
that we waited a long time. There were quick steps 
and loud talking outside ; then the door opened 
again, the passports were handed in, and the latch 
turned. The engine whistled, rumbled on a short 
distance, and then stopped. 

“Fertig! ” shouted the guard. 

Welcome sound ! We were again in Germany— 
and were not sorry. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


PARIS IN WINTER. 

I ) AIN, fog, and sleet, with days of sunshine 
^ between; splendid carriages dashing down 
the boulevards; brilliant stores and crowded 
streets,— this is Paris in winter. And winter is 
the season for Les Franqais — the time for party 
and opera-going, late suppers and frivolity. It is 
fascinating, but wearing. You see this in the pale 
cheeks, dark rings about the eyes, and haggard 
faces of these fashionable French ladies. 

Madame C.’s pension was very popular. It was 
central, had large sunny rooms, and a good table. 
Sunday was the day for general house-cleaning. 
Then everything was turned topsy-turvy, and 
scrubbing, dusting and sweeping were carried on 
with tremendous vigor. In the afternoon we were 
invited to promenade, jingle the piano, or play 
cards; and if we declined, we were set down as 
stupides. In the evening Madame went with her 

friends to the opera, and was not seen again till the 

\ 

eleven o’clock breakfast next morning. 

Madame C. was a handsome woman. Her pic¬ 
ture was on exhibition in the Royal Academy. She 

201 


202 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


had large dark eyes, waving black hair, and a fine 
figure; but her chief charm lay in her numberless 
indefinable French graces. Picture her in the 
evening. We are seated in the brilliantly-lighted 
salon , waiting for table d'hote. Madame enters. 
Her black dress fits like a glove. Through a 
dainty chemisette , with a bunch of violets care¬ 
lessly slipped in one corner, can be seen her 
soft white neck; while over one arm is thrown 
a white scarf of some fleecy delicate fabric. As 
Madame bows and smiles her u bonsoirs ,” she 
tosses the scarf over her black hair with a bewitch¬ 
ing effect, which we might have tried for hours to 
attain, but never could. As, one by one, the boarders 
enter, they are greeted with a gracious “ Bonsoir y 
Madame ,” or u Bonsoir, Mademoiselle .” Then,, 
if Mademoiselle wishes to do the proper thing, 
though she may have been in the house only a 
day, she will step forward and imprint a kiss on 
Madame’s cheeks, first one side, then the other. 
But table d'hote is announced, and we all go to the 
dining-room. The pretty colored screens are 
placed before the windows. On the walls, instead 
of pictures are hung decorated porcelain plates, plat¬ 
ters, etc., a la Parisienne / while the long table 
with its snowy linen and faultless setting, looks very 
attractive. We seat ourselves, and then a chatter 
begins, which continues noisy and incessant, during 


PARIS IN WINTER. 


203 


the entire hour and a half we are at table. Madame 
sits between her two sons, Eugene and Emile. 
“Mamma” and Emile are very affectionate, and 
hug and kiss each other tenderly. Presently Etnilo 
receives a sound box on the ear, and begins to 
whimper; but the next minute the caressings 
proceed more fondly than ever. After dinner the 
gentlemen smoke for half an hour over their cham¬ 
pagne. No apology is made to the ladies, who are 
expected to retire if they do not enjoy the fumes of, 
tobacco. 

But the charm of our winter in Paris was la 
petite Mademoiselle. Full of animation and sweet¬ 
ness, no one could help loving our “ little robin,” as 
we used to call her. Many a happy hour we spent 
in her pretty salon , listening to her chatter or her 
piano playing — for Mademoiselle was an artist in 
music, and her slender fingers swept the keys with 
a magic touch. U I love Chopin, he is so brilliant,” 
she used to say; “but he is too classic for many 
Parisians. I must play for them La Frivolite and 
gay musique .” 

Mademoiselle had many friends, and, as she was 
now of a marriageable age, had many suitors. Mar¬ 
riage is a great subject with French girls. Little 
children at school quarrel about the amount of 
dowry they are to receive at their wedding, and she 
who can boast of the largest sum is the envy of all, 


204 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


— for without the dot no French girl can marry; 
and to be of a marriageable age, and not married, is 
a terrible disgrace. One poor girl whom we knew, 
had a sister much prettier than herself, but Therese 
was the older and must be married first. “ Papa ” 
brought home a gentleman and introduced him to 
Therese; but by accident the pretty sister was in 
the room, and Monsieur the suitor, much preferring 
her, would not look again at Therese, who sought 
her room in tears. 

One day oar little Mademoiselle seemed unusu¬ 
ally excited. “ Ah, mes cheries,” she exclaimed, “I 
have a new robe to show you, excessivtment char- 
mante! ” And she flew to get the sky-blue plush, 
and unfold it before our admiring eyes. 

“ What is it for, Petite f ” 

“A presentation to-morrow night. My char- 
mante friend, Madame G., wishes to present me to 
a Monsieur very distingue .” 

“ Did you ever see him ? ” 

“ Never; but I wish to.” 

A few days after, we saw Mademoiselle again. 

“ Did the presentation come off? ” we asked, full 
of curiosity. 

“Oh, ouiy oui! I saw Monsieur. He is very 
distingue. I sat next to him at table, and played 
on the piano, and made myself most agreeable.” 

“ Is he good-looking ? ” 


PARIS IN WINTER. 


205 


“He is not bad — but,” with a shrug, “he is 
old.” 

“ IIow old ? ” 

“Fifty, peut-etre. He is distingue! He has a 
title ; but that is nothing in France now.” 

“ Do you like him ? ” 

“A little—not too much; but I think he will 
do.” 

“You will marry him, then ? ” 

“ I think so.” 

“ But do you love him ? ” 

“ Mes chevies ! ” with an inexpressible shrug and 
toss of the head. “ I do not know him .” 

Monsieur B., mayor of the first avrondissement 
in Paris, was a fine old gentleman, and a great friend 
of Mademoiselle. 

“I have some good news for you, Mignonnes ,” 
she exclaimed, one day, in her enthusiastic manner. 
“To-morrow you will dine at Monsieur B.'s. In 
the afternoon we will drive to Sevres, and visit the 
porcelain factory. Be ready at three.” 

It was a delightful ride along the Champs-Elysees 
and the smooth avenues of the Bois de Boulogne, 
lovely even in winter garb of brown and gold. 
Monsieur B.'s presence at the factory was a charm. 
Doors were unlocked, polite ushers ran to and fro, 
and the rarest treasures appeared at his bidding. 
The show-room was dazzling with its wonderful exlii- 


206 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


bition of line porcelains. The delicate little angels, 
the fruit and flowers decorating the ware, are all 
made by hand. Some of the elaborate articles were 
each composed of one hundred and forty separate 
pieces. 

The salon at Monsieur B.’s was brilliant with 
gilt and glitter. A handsome French clock, and 
tall porcelain vases filled with bouquets of artificial 
flowers, ornamented the mantel. The furniture 
was light and showy. Rich curtains fell below the 
long windows, and pretty bric-a-brac was scattered 
about. Several choice pictures hung against the red 
wall, showing the refining influence of the Louvre 
on French taste. The family were a gay company, 
chattering like magpies. It was fascinating to 
watch and hear them. They did not sit, but 
skipped gracefully about over the waxed floor, full 
of sparkle and animation. 

“ You must speak to the gentlemen,’’ whispered 
Mademoiselle ; “we do not present them.” 

Dinner was announced at seven. The table glis^ 
tened with cut-glass and silver. From the centre 
rose a tall pyramid of flowers and fruit, imbedded 
in a mat of dried moss, while a few plates of fancy 
cakes and bonbons w T ere the only edibles before us. 
There were eleven courses, and we were two 
hours and a half at the table. This, it must be 
remembered, was only a family dinner. First in 


PARIS IN WINTER. 


207 


the course came tapioca soup; second, fish ; third, 
roast beef and mushrooms; fourth, turkey, with 
potatoes fried in little balls the size of a walnut; 
fifth, macaroni, baked in a mould of pastry resem¬ 
bling a loaf of brown bread; sixth, small lobsters 
swinging on hooks from a silver caster, to be torn 
to pieces with our fingers ; seventh, salad ; eighth, 
ice-cream; ninth, fancy cakes and pastry ; tenth, 
fruit: eleventh, coffee. The viands were cooked as 
only the French know how, and served a la mode. 
The meats were carved on the table, but the vege¬ 
tables were passed to us by the waiters. Everybody 
ate fast and heartily. AVe could not help thinking of 
what Mademoiselle had said to us: “The French 
ladies are not strong like the Americans, ” shaking her 
head dolefully; “they eat much rich food, sit up 
late at the opera, and do not walk in the open air.” 
The table-talk was loud and animated. Monsieur 
D., who was an enrage republican, had a hot dis¬ 
pute with his brother-in-law, who was an enrage roy¬ 
alist ; but it blew over in two minutes, and all was 
serene again. 

After dinner the gentlemen disappeared, but the 
ladies returned to the salon. The children, who had 
been dismissed during dinner, now came back. 
They seemed very shy and quiet, but Mademoiselle 
explained that French children in the company of 


208 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


older people are not allowed to speak unless spoken 
to. 

As the hour was growing late, we rose to leave. 

“Can we bid Monsieur B. good-night?” we 
asked of his eldest daughter. 

“ My father? He is smoking,” she replied, evi¬ 
dently surprised at the question ; so we left without 
seeing him again. 

As the Corps Ltgislatif was in session, a few 
days later Monsieur B. gave us tickets to the Cham¬ 
ber of Deputies, and went with us himself to a ses¬ 
sion of the Senate in the Luxembourg. It yras just 
before Gambetta’s death, and the agitation was in¬ 
tense. The senate-chamber is a handsome apart¬ 
ment ; the walls are decorated with the Gobelin 
tapestry, and the red morocco benches arranged in 
circular tiers around the speaker's desk. We could 
hardly believe the senators were Frenchmen. Most 
of them were grave, white-haired men, busily en¬ 
gaged in writing, only waking up to a little excite¬ 
ment when some speaker especially interested them. 
Monsieur B. pointed out Gustave Naguet, the little 
hunchback who has made himself so famous on the 
divorce question ; and at another time, in the Cham¬ 
ber of Deputies, the hot-headed Paul de Cassagnac. 
Our interest in politics greatly amused Monsieur B. 
In France, ladies are considered ill-bred who mani¬ 
fest the least concern on the subject, and no one 


PARIS IN WINTER. 


209 


who values her reputation thinks of saying a word 
in favor or disfavor of any political question. 

Christmas was coming, and all Paris was on the 
qui-vive. Madame decorated the salori with holly, 
and talked suggestively of good times coming. The 
streets were thronged, and the store-windows more 
attractive than ever. Hosts of French dolls, for all 
the world like live babies, met our eyes at every 
turn. They were arranged in the deep window- 
seats in the most artistic and natural attitudes,— 
jumping, swinging, and dancing. But nothing 
could eclipse the candy-stores. French confection¬ 
ery is famous, yet who would ever dream of such 
extraordinary candy-boxes as little shawl-bundles, 
tied up with umbrella, cane, and guide-books ; kid 
gloves doubled up like a fist; rustic straw hats ; 
sledges, and wooden shoes! They were of all 
prices, from twenty cents to a hundred dollars. 
French ladies give boxes of bonbons as New Year’s 
gifts to their friends ; Mademoiselle said she some¬ 
times received twenty of them at once. 

Small wooden booths lined the handsome boule¬ 
vards for miles. The country-people are allowed to 
set them up during the holiday week, and enjoy 
a brisk trade. It was a gay scene in the evening, 
with the street lamps burning, the electric-lights 
flashing from the store-windows, and the eager 

crowd surging to and fro. 

14 


210 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


At midnight on Christmas Eve, mass is cele¬ 
brated in all the Catholic churches. We went with 
Mademoiselle to “St. Eustache,” one of the oldest 
and finest cathedrals in the city. The crowd was 
immense. By eleven o’clock a perfect sea of heads 
surrounded the square, waiting for the doors to 
open. But a French crowd is always good-natured. 
The police kept order, and we were soon safely 
seated on our camp-stools half way up the nave. It 
was a weird sight — the dim lights, and the thou¬ 
sands of white upturned faces filling the shadowy 
aisles. Suddenly the organ began playing, low and 
sweet. 

“Hush!” whispered Mademoiselle, stopping a 
minute in her prayers. “It is the story of the 
Christ-child. Do you not hear the shepherds’ flutes 
as they watch their flocks in the field ? It will end 
with the Hallelujah Chorus, ‘ Glory to God in the 
Highest.’ ” 

The clock struck twelve. In an instant, myriads 
of gleaming stars surrounded the altar. The choir¬ 
boys chanted, and the priests in their glittering 
mantles swung the incense. Then from the gallery 
a male voice struck up the midnight anthem that is 
sung each year at this very hour—“The Christ 
Who Came at Midnight.” All heads were bowed. 
Mademoiselle said not a word ; she was absorbed in 
her devotions. The last note died away, the prayer- 


PARIS IN WINTER. 


211 


books were closed, and in a few minutes we were 
again on the street. 

“Was it not beautiful?” cried our little friend. 
‘‘Now the people will go home.” 

“To bed ?” we added. 

“Ah, no,— to a grand feast, and gayety till 
morning.” 

New Year’s is the great day in France. At 
Christmas, good children may place their shoes 
among the ashes in the fire-place for the Christ- 
child to fill ; but New Year’s is the day for gifts 
and frolic. 

We lunched with La Petite. She was sad and 
tired. 

“I have been this morning to Pere la Chaise, 
mes chevies. I placed flowers on the graves of my 
parents. It is sad.” 

“Will you stay at home this afternoon ? ” 

“Oh, no; I go to a great dinner with my 
friends, and to-night to the theatre. One must be 
gay — it is necessary to forget, you know.” 

In France it is not the custom for gentlemen to 
make New Year’s calls, but they send their visiting- 
cards through the mail to their friends. The digni¬ 
taries of state call in a body on the President at the 
Elysee Palace, and he immediately returns the call 
at the Chamber of Deputies. We saw the procession 
on its way there, and caught a glimpse of Monsieur 


212 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


Grevy, in his closed carriage accompanied by a small 
guard of brilliantly-uniformed cavalry. 

ISTew Year’s afternoon, all Paris, in holiday 
dress, is out-of-doors, crowding the parks and ave¬ 
nues. Whole families together — father, mother, 
and children, a rare sight in Paris — promenade up 
and down Champs-Elysees; the men smoking, the 
ladies laughing and chatting. Then they go home 
to a grand dinner — afterwards to the opera — and 
so the holiday merriment is ended. 


CHAPTER XX. 


OFF TO THE ORIENT 


HERE was not a moment to lose. To make 



connection with tlie steamer sailing from Brin¬ 
disi on the 29 th of January, it was necessary to 
leave Paris by the express on the 27th — which 
gave us only two days’ grace. But nothing seemed 
impossible, with the prospect of fifteen days in 
Egypt, a month of tent-life in Palestine, and, as a 
side-relish, glimpses of the Acropolis and the 
Golden Horn. 

Xever did the French capital appear so fascinat¬ 
ing, with its brilliant shops, crowded boulevards, 
and countless lights along the Seine, as on the 
evening of our departure. Just before train-time, 
the doors leading to the platform were unlocked, 
and the passengers rushed to their places. In spite 
of the cheap tickets to Italy for the approaching 
Carnival, we were fortunate enough to secure a 
compartment with but one other occupant — an Eng¬ 
lish lady on her way to India. She could not 
speak a word of French, and when we met her was 
gesticulating wildly to a crowd of grinning officials 
over a missing piece of baggage, which was after- 

213 


214 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


wards discovered safely stowed away on the seat 
beside her. 

The night wore slowly by, and morning found 
us high among the snowy peaks of the Mont Cenis 
pass. It was a glorious sight. The rising sun 
illumined first the kingly heights, then flooded 
lake and valley with a thousand changing hues, 
while the mountain sides, half in shadow, seemed 
hidden behind a translucent veil of purplish mist. 
Presently we entered the tunnel, and for twenty- 
five minutes sped on in total darkness, which made 
the first flash of light at the other end quite blind¬ 
ing. 

Toward evening we reached Turin, and there 
changed cars. Our English travelling companion, 
in addition to the “big box, little box, band-box 
and bundle,’' had a kitten which she was carrying 
home to Bombay as a present to her husband. A 
tell-tale “meow ” betrayed poor pussy to an unfeed 
porter, who determined to avenge the slight by 
reporting his discovery to the station-master. 

“ Madam, you have a cat in that basket.” 

“Yes.” 

“ Pay me fifteen francs from here to Bologna.” 

“ I can’t.” 

“You must.” 

“ But it is not a cat; it is only a kitten. Surely 
you wouldn’t ask so much for a poor little kitten! ” 




THE KITTEN WAS BORNE AWAY BY RELENTLESS HANDS. 


































































































OFF TO THE ORIENT. 


215 


“ Give me fifteen francs, or put down the cat! ” 
and in spite of all remonstrances, the kitten was 
borne away by relentless hands, while Madam 
exclaimed with a sigh : u An Indian wouldn’t have 
been so cruel! ” 

It needed no guide-book to tell us we were once 
again in the sunny South. Here were the orange 
and olive groves, the rolling Adriatic with its surf- 
washed beach, the dark-eyed Romeo enveloped in 
his ample toga, and the soft flow of the lingua 
Italiana. 

u Brindisi ! ” cried the guard, at eleven o’clock ; 
and out we sprang upon the platform. Then came a 
crazy ride-through the still crazier town, up and 
down dark narrow alleys shut in by high walls, 
rattling pell-mell over the stone pavement, half 
expecting at every turn to see a gang of banditti 
spring out upon us, till at last the steamer-landing 
was reached. 

The following day was perfect. We cruised in 
sight of the snow-crowned Albanian hills, along 
shores beautiful but treacherous in stormy weather, 
and once the favorite haunt of pirates. The isle of 
Corfu lies off the Turkish coast, but belongs to 
Greece. Here we stopped over-night, and had our 
first taste of Oriental life. If some kind genii had 
suddenly dropped us into the centre of the moon, 
things could hardly have seemed more strange. 


216 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE . 


Nearly every nationality was represented—the Turk, 
with his cap, sash, and leggins; the foreboding Moor, 
in short plaited skirt, low morocco shoes turned up at 
the toe, and flying cape ; Greeks, Arabs, and Ital¬ 
ians. Under the shadow of the low archway lead¬ 
ing to the town sat the money-changers fumbling 
their piles of old coins. St. George’s Hotel is 
beautifully situated. From our windows we looked 
out on the great square, where at evening the band 
played, and watched the soft sunset colors on the 
hills opposite, with the castellated garrison on the 
height at our left, overlooking the rainbow colored 
water. 

Sundav afternoon we embarked in the Austrian 
«/ 

steamer “ Mars.” It was much larger and finer than 
the one we had left, and had clean state-rooms, good 
table, and agreeable passengers. There was only 
one drawback to our pleasure. An ill-favored Arab 
played a funeral dirge, from morning till night, on 
a one-stringed instrument, with a perseverance 
wholly unaccountable to his unappreciative audi¬ 
ence. 

Wednesday morning opened bright and warm. 
The air was exhilarating, and the waters were bluest 
of the blue. Our captain, attired in uniform, paced 
the deck, with head erect; for were we not entering 
Alexandria twenty-four hours ahead of time—the 
shortest passage ever made ! 


OFF TO THE ORIENT. 


217 


At eleven o'clock the low white boundary of the 
Egyptian coast could be discerned, and the needle¬ 
like spires of the light-house and Pompey’s Pillar. 
“ Six trips ago," said the captain, “we entered this 
harbor amid the booming of cannon and rattling of 
musketry." One may wax sentimental on some 
themes, but not over an entry into Alexandria. No 
sooner had our steamer passed the breakwater, than 
dozens of small boats came out to take us ashore. 
Some of the oarsmen wore gay red shirts, purple 
trousers, and white stockings; others had scarcely 
rags enough to cover them. And such a deafening 
Babel of voices! — such screaming, tumbling, and 
fighting ! Amidst the chaos, we were safely landed 
at the custom-house. A fat Turk peeped lazily into 
our satchels, then chalked them and sent them on. 

The ride to the hotel gave us a glimpse of 
Bedlam. Tiny shops, scarcely ten feet by twelve, 
were lined with dry-goods, groceries, fruit, and 
things impossible to describe, while lazy Turks were 
seated on the floor, smoking their long pipes. 
Women veiled in black and white robes, and boys 
leading overladen donkeys, went by; and strangest 
and saddest of all were the ruins, sometimes with 
wooden booths built on the crumbling foundations. 

After dinner a ride through the city was proposed. 
It is almost impossible to judge of Alexandria since 
the war. It is no longer European, but essentially 


218 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


Oriental, since the best buildings were all destroyed. 
The forts are situated on rocky peninsulas, but are 
virtually demolished. 

“This is a splendid fortress, and couldn’t have 
been taken in three months, had not the Arabs fled 
from their posts,” said Mr. A. The ground was 
covered with bits of shell, broken cannon, and other 
rubbish. In the centre of the city is the garrison, 
and it was curious to see squads of English soldiers 
smoking on the balconies and standing guard at the 
portal. 

“There are many English here,” said L. to 
Hassan, the guide. 

“Yes,” he replied sadly, “but they will leave 
soon.” 

The beautifully shaded avenue leading to Pom- 
pey’s Pillar skirts the banks of the canal. Here are 
some of the prettiest of the English homes. We 
passed some wretched mud houses, and a large open 
field where the gallows was placed. The gardens of 
the khedive, were they better kept, would be very 
charming, with their profusion of tropical plants — 
cacti, palms, rubber trees, and many brilliant foliage 
growths, which flourish in their native soil. On our 
way to Cairo we saw our first eastern sunset. The 
very gates of heaven seemed opened, so great was 
the glory that spread over the earth. It was a fitting 
close to our first day in the “Homestead of Nations.” 


CHAPTER XXI. 


CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. 

[H spite of the rumors of danger since the Egyp- 

tian war, Cairo was thronged with tourists, and 
seemed as peaceful as if trouble had never been. 
Only the red-coated British soldiers stationed in the 
city were left to tell the sad story. 

“I never go out of doors without fearing I may 
be shot down at any moment,” said a gentleman 
who had been in the city six weeks. 

But Sir Charles Wilson walked alone and un¬ 
armed through Cairo the midnight after Alexandria’s 
bombardment. 

“ Were you not afraid ?” we exclaimed, when lie 
told us. 

“Hot in the least; the natives are timid, and 
cowed by a threat.” 

We reached Cairo at night, and woke the next 
morning to hear the cries of Arab boys and breathe 
the perfume of orange blossoms. Our low windows 
looked out on a tropical garden, with tall palms, 
crimson-dyed bushes, and the glossy-leaved rubber 
tree, swaying in the morning breeze. The sun was 
shining as it can shine only in the East, with a soft 

219 


220 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


yellow radiance ; and through the grove came the 
far sound of the soldiers’ bugles. 

How delightful are these great Eastern hotels, 
with their stone-paved corridors, wide stone stair¬ 
ways, and breezy verandas almost as spacious as the 
hotel itself. Here, under the sweet-smelling vines, 
with the birds singing overhead, and dusky-faced 
dragomans trailing by in their many-colored gowns, 
one lounges in light cane easy chairs, and lazily 
dreams of freezing weather and furnace-fires at 
home. 

In the evening came the jugglers and snake- 
charmers. Among them was a little girl, eight 
years old, who had learned the art of jugglery from 
her father. She wore a single loose gown, and her 
great black eyes gleamed like stars in the dim 
light. 

“Please, Messieurs,” she cried, in a crisp, clear 
voice; “ give me a penny ! ” 

A gentleman dropped one into her hand. 

“How, look! ” and she opened her mouth, threw 
back her head, and swallowed it. There was a 
moment’s suspense ; then, clapping her hand to her 
ear, out came the penny. She had some snakes, 
which twined about her arms, and crept over her 
neck and face, her sharp black eyes fixed on them 
every minute. But the drollest thing was a wee 
white guinea-pig that she carried tucked away in 


CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. 


221 


her bosom. The little creature seemed to know the 
child, and tried to nestle up in her arms, while she 
made it perform its tricks. The show over, she 
picked up her pig and snakes, passed around a 
hat, and with a quick u Thank you, Madame , thank 
you, Monsieur ,” darted out into the darkness. 

“Alexandria is European, Cairo Oriental,’’was 
the saying before the war. But Cairo is a strange 
mixture. There is Old Cairo with its bazaars and 
dirty Arabs, and New Cairo with its hotels and 
palaces. The aristocratic avenue is the Shoobra, 
lined with acacia trees and villas, and leading 
straight to the Shoobra palace. Every afternoon, and 
especially Sundays, it swarms with the handsome 
carriages of the wealthy Turks and Europeans. The 
khedive drives out regularly. Once we passed him 
— a good-looking, pleasant-faced man, of about 
thirty-five, dressed in a red jacket and fez. He 
rode in a single-seated carriage, preceded by a small 
mounted guard ; and politely saluted us. Just after 
him swept a closed carriage containing four ladies 
from the royal harem. Through the open window 
we caught glimpses of soft round faces and large 
dark eyes peeping curiously at us — their white 
gauzy veils a mere pretext for a face-covering — till 
the carriage had rolled by and left us in a cloud of 
dust. 

Cairo is best seen from the tower of the Citadel. 


■222 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


We looked down upon glittering minarets, the low 
houses nestling among the green, with the broad 
silvery Nile on the East. In the citadel is the 
Mosque of Mehemet Ali, modern but handsome, and 
rich in fine carvings and oriental alabaster. Not far 
distant stands the Mosque of Tulun, the oldest in 
Cairo. We visited its marble-paved courts and 
sacred halls, and were shown one room containing 
some of the tombs of the faithful buried with their 
feet toward Mecca — a green scarf, indicative of a 
pilgrimage to the holy city, encircling the stone or 
wooden turban at the head of the tomb. The 
Mosque of Omar, in Old Cairo, is one of the most 
interesting in the city; but it is fast falling into 
decay. In its cloisters are two columns, placed so 
near together that only a very slender man can pass 
between them comfortably. Formerly this was made 
a test of faith — those who could not squeeze through 
being considered bad Mussulmans. This continued, 
Hassan solemnly told us, till one fat Pasha stuck 
fast, and was killed in the effort to get him out; 
since when, the custom has been abolished. 

The chief charm of Cairo palaces is their lux¬ 
uriant gardens. The palaces themselves, with 
few exceptions, are only a succession of long halls 
and cheerless apartments, filled with an abundance 
of stiff though elegant European furniture ; but we 
were never tired of wandering over the grounds. 


CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. 


223 


The brilliant colors of the flowers and foliage, the 
delicious perfumes, rustic arbors, artistic garden- 
houses with their marble floors, gay frescoes, foun¬ 
tains, divans and statuary, the soft breezes, and an 
occasional glimpse of an Arab gardener in his many- 
hued garments, —all gave the place a strange 
fascination. 

One of the most interesting resorts in Cairo is the 
^National Museum in Bulak. It is not very large, 
but its collections are very choice. These old 
mummy-cases and stiff images, that so soon grow 
uninteresting in other places, had a new meaning 
when studied in their own land. When the last 
tomb of the kings was discovered at Thebes in 18S0, 
all the relics not taken to London were deposited in 
this museum — the richest in Egyptian curiosities in 
the world. Many of the coffins, after the lid was 
removed, were left untouched; the mummy was 
still enrolled in its wrappings, and lying about it 
the beads, coins, and little stone mummies that had 
been placed there thousands of years before. In 
one coffin we saw some dried lotus leaves (the 
lotus is extinct in Egypt now), and in another a 
mother embalmed with her baby in her arms. 

One morning, as our carriage rolled down 
one of Cairo’s narrowest streets, preceded by a 
forerunner who scattered donkeys, camels, and 
people to the right and left, we suddenly stopped 


224 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


in front of the high arched doorway of the great 
Arab University—Mosque al Azhar, or “Splendid 
Mosque.” In answer to Hassan’s knock, the door 
was opened by a portly Turk in cashmere and 
silk, who bowed gravely as we entered. At once 
the hum of hundreds of voices rose on the air from 
the students in the spacious court beyond. Along 
the sides of the open corridor connecting the en¬ 
trance with the court, stood a row of Turkish barbers, 
dentists, and surgeons, busily engaged in treating 
their patients who crouched on the ground against 
the wall. With a hasty glance, we passed on to the 
court. What an Oriental scene it was ! — this great 
crowd of boys in native dress seated on their straw 
mats on the ground, busy with their studies. They 
were gathered in little groups of eight or ten about 
a teacher, conning their lessons from a book or lead 
slate, and rocking incessantly back and forth to the 
music of their voices. A row of sandals surrounded 
each class; and a straw awning sheltered them from 
above — for the court was open and the noonday 
sun very warm. At the other end of the court was 
the mosque where the older students were gathered. 
The floor was covered with matting, and each class, 
with its teacher, was collected around the base of 
one of the pillars. Here was the same noisy hum of 
voices and the incessant rocking to and fro. 

Usually the university enrolls ten thousand stu- 


CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. 


225 


dents, but the Turkish professor who acted as our 
guide told us that on account of the recent war the 
attendance was much smaller that year. The boys 
come from far and near — from the wilds of Nubia 
and the plains of Arabia. Many of them, after their 
studies are finished, go out as missionaries; and on 
leaving the university, as some one has said, “they 
mount their camels, join a caravan, cross the desert, 
and are lost in the far interior of Africa, where they 
become the effective propagators of Islam.” 

Friday afternoon we went to see the “howling 
dervishes.” We found them in a room of an old 
wooden building, reached by a series of dark pas¬ 
sages from a side street. Their service had already 
begun. About twenty men were seated on the 
floor around the sides of the sanctuary, which 
was separated by a low railing from the platform at 
the entrance. At first the dervish guardian at the 
door refused us admittance unless we would leave 
our shoes outside; but he finally allowed us to enter 
and stand behind the railing. The dervishes were 
strange-looking men, dressed in a variety of coarse 
cotton gowns. Their feet were bare, and their long 
hair hung loosely over their shoulders. The wor¬ 
ship progressed quietly for awhile. The men sat in 
a wide circle about the sheik, who occupied a mat 
at the farther end of the room. Sometimes they 

rose to sing, and again crouched on the floor, bow- 
15 


226 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


ing and repeating prayers in a loud chorus. 
After a short time, at a sign from the leader the 
dervishes stood on their feet and remained silent 
with folded arms. This only lasted a few minutes ; 
then one dervish, placing his hand on his hips, 
began rocking his body back and forth, accompany¬ 
ing the motion with a peculiar lialf-guttural cry, 
most painful to hear. Another and another quickly 
followed his example, till the entire circle had joined 
in the service, all preserving a kind of rhythm in 
their movements, which would have been graceful if 
it had been less exaggerated. The leader alone 
remained quiet and unmoved. As the excitement 
grew more intense, the motions became more violent. 
The men seemed to have lost their reason; their 
long hair flew wildly about their heads, their faces 
became pallid, and their cries changed to hoarse 
gasps that shook their whole bodies. At last we could 
endure the sight no longer, and turned away. Those 
who remained told us that before the sheik gave the 
sign to stop, some fell in convulsions and had to be 
carried out by attendants, while those who remained 
trembled from head to foot. 

One morning, while we were sipping our choco¬ 
late in the airy dining-hall of the New Grand Hotel, 
Mr. M. came in, all excitement. 

“We must make haste, for this is our day for the 
pyramids.” 


CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. 


In a twinkling, the carriage was ready, our 
lunch stowed away, and we were speeding over the 
road toward Ghizeh. Our driver was a coal-black 
Nubian. Beside him sat Hassan, the dragoman, 
dressed in the costume of his country — Turkish 
cap or fez, white turban, purple u knickerbockers,” 
and embroidered jacket. To some exterior portion 
of the carriage clung a raven-haired youngster, who 
showed a mouthful of glittering ivory every time we 
looked at him, and who seemed to act as a kind of 
rear-guard. Two deep scars marked one side of his 
face — the brand of a slave. 

Driving through New Cairo, with its villas and 
palaces, we turned into the broad macadamized ave¬ 
nue leading straight to the pyramids. On either 
side, for some distance, stretched the rich meadow- 
lands of the Nile; but farther on, rolled the sand- 
plains, and had it not been for the shade of the 
overspreading acacia trees planted along our route, 
and kept alive by artificial irrigation, the heat would 
have been insufferable. 

It was early morning, and the highway was 
blocked with caravans of donkeys and camels com¬ 
ing in from the country, laden with bundles of fresh 
grass and sugar-cane. The donkeys are little ani¬ 
mals, but tough as oxen, judging from the burdens 
heaped upon their backs. It was laughable to see a 
tall Arab seated upon one of these diminutive beasts, 


228 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


his feet barely escaping the ground, while behind 
him ran a small boy urging the homdr on with 
thrusts and lashes. Occasionally the rider found 
himself turning an unexpected somersault, though 
the natives are pretty sharp and not often dislodged. 

We were never tired of watching the people we 
passed on our way. The children, clad in a single 
loose garment, capered about as if they hadn’t a care 
in the world, while their sires squatted lazily on the 
ground, smoked their pipes, or quarrelled with each 
other over the miscellaneous collections of wares 
strewn around them. The women wore gowns of white 
or black, with a veil covering the head, sometimes 
entirely concealing their faces, but oftener leaving 
the eyes and nose exposed. They strolled along in 
bevies of half-a-dozen or more, usually with a baby 
perched on the left shoulder, and clinging, like a 
monkey, to the mother’s hair. 

And now against the low rim of the horizon rose 
the three mighty giants of the desert. u Man fears 
time, but time fears the pyramids,” is an old Arabic 
proverb ; and how true it seemed as we gazed upon 
their vast forms for the first time. The atmosphere 
was so deceptive in its clearness that they seemed 
very near, though Hassan said they were still three 
miles distant. 

Around us lay scattered date-groves and numer¬ 
ous mud villages rising like mole-hills on the plain. 


CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS. 


229 


Nearer and higher loomed the pyramids. We 
turned out of the shaded avenue, swept across the 
sand-plain, and, two hours after leaving Cairo, stood 
at the.foot of Cheops. 

A crowd of Arabs and Nubians swarmed around 

* 

us, their white cotton-gowns in ludicrous contrast with 
their shining black faces. Now began the work of 
climbing. The sheik assigned us each two guides, 
but a dozen ragamuffins followed in the train. Besides 
the two men, one at each hand to pull us up, a third 
was behind to push. Another followed with a jug 
of water, while five or six more were begging for 
backsheesh. 

The great pyramid measures five hundred and 
sixty-eight feet on each sloping side, and is ascended 
by great steps, each several feet high. “Be sure 
and don’t hurry,” was the last advice given us ; and 
we resolved to heed it. These “stops” gave rise 
to frequent and enlivening conversations. 

[Head man — who spoke English very well.] — 
“How do you feel now ? Drink some water.” 

“ I do not want any.” 

“It is good—take it. I am the doctor,” at the 
same time offering his earthen jug. [After a pause.] — 
“ My name is Ali — the best man here.” 

“ Have you ascended the pyramid many times ? ” 

“Very many.” 

“My father visited here once.” 


230 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


“ Yes, I went up with him. Will you have this 
coin — it is from Pharaoh’s time ? ” 

“ No, thank you — not now.” 

On we go, breathless but determined, till sud¬ 
denly the men cry out—“Allah!” “Allah!” 
and in a moment more we plant our feet triumph¬ 
antly on the topmost stone. The apex is so 
broad, one has no sense of fear unless he goes too 
near the edge, and even then, the slant is such that 
only the dizzy-headed experience any unpleasant 
sensation. Turning a deaf ear to the clamor for 
backsheesh , we surveyed the wondrous prospect 
spread at our feet. To the south lies ancient Mem¬ 
phis, with the pyramids of Sakkarah distinctly visi¬ 
ble. On the east rise the mosques of Cairo, border¬ 
ing the Nile ; while beyond, the low range of lime¬ 
stone hills slope gradually toward the Red Sea. 
Northward extends the acacia-lined avenue leading 
in a circuitous route to Cairo ; while away toward 
the setting sun, like an ocean of sand, stretches the 
great Sahara. On the right of Cheops reclines the 
Sphinx. Just at the base of the pyramid, on the 
left, are the half-buried tombs of the pashas. At 
that moment a funeral procession was on its way 
there, and the people looked like black specks on 
the dazzling sands. 

Tourists usually dilate upon the difficulty of 
ascending the pyramid ; but my theme will be the 


CAIRO AND TEE PYRAMIDS. 


Oo-f 

jO I 

visit to tlie interior. Gaining the entrance, which is 
forty feet from the base, we bent almost double, and 
went sliding down an inclined avenue of slippery 
granite, through a contracted passage-way, that grew 
dustier and more suffocating the farther we went. 
The chambers of the king and queen, with their 
vaulted ceilings, offered good breathing-places. 
Here Ali, beguiling us into a dark corner, for the 
pretended purpose of revealing some rare curiosity, 
collected his forces for a final attack. 

u See ! ” said he, pointing ominously to the flick¬ 
ering taper he held in his hand, “pay backsheesh 
quick — candle almost gone.” 

We need not say, we breathed more freely when 
again in the open air. 

After eating our basket-dinner in the carriage, we 
walked through the sand to pay our respects to the 
Sphinx. This time the sheik himself accompanied 
us, and lashed every boy who dared to come too 
near his majesty’s person. “How appropriate a 
guard this sphinx of sphinxes is to these tombs of 
tombs! The lion part is nearly buried out of sight, 
but the head is still perfect, and those great eyes are 
turned toward the Orient with the same memorable 
fixity as when first the Hebrew children saw them 
three thousand years ago.” 

Early in the afternoon, we said good-bye to Ghi- 
zeh and turned our faces homeward. As it was the 


232 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


cool of the day, many people were out enjoying 
their evening promenade. There was the proud 
Turk with a pipe in his mouth, the Arabian nurse 
with her little charges both black and white, the 
English officer in striking uniform ; but among them 
all, we did not see a single Egyptian lady. 

Most curious of all were the forerunners, who 
always precede the chariot of a person of distinction ; 
indeed, they are a real necessity on account of the 
blocked roads. Dressed in a white robe and gilt- 
embroidered jacket, they stride ahead with wiry 
limbs, uttering loud cries and dispersing the crowd 
right and left with a silver wand carried in one hand. 

Before our hotel-door was gathered the usual 
array of jugglers, donkeys, snake-charmers, and 
dragomans. Wearily we climbed the stairs to our 
rooms, to enjoy from our open windows a distant 
view of Cheops and Chephren, as the last rays of 
the setting-sun burnished with purple and gold 
their massive forms. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


AFLOAT ON THE NILE. 



ARLY one Friday morning we left Cairo for 


Siout, there to connect with the mail-steamer 
up the Hile. The Cairo station was an animated 
scene. The camels, donkeys, and carriages, which 
had brought the passengers from town, crowded the 
road, and natives and Europeans jostled one another 
on the platform. 

This line of Egyptian railway is not so good as 
that between Alexandria and Cairo. There are first, 
second, and third-class coaches. The first-class are 
divided into compartments and furnished with hard 
cushions. The second-class are almost as comforta¬ 
ble, but have no compartments. The express trains 
are said to run at the rate of twenty-five miles an 
hour; but ours, we fancy, must have been an “ac¬ 
commodation” train. 

The landscape became monotonous : broad flat 
plains, bounded with limestone-liills on one side and 
the desert on the other; forest after forest of palm- 
trees — field after field of sugar-cane — camels, 
sheep, canals, sunshine — and dust. The dust of 
that day’s ride will never be forgotten. It did not 


233 


234 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


simply blow in; it stormed, it hailed, it enveloped 
us from head to foot, filling our eyes, mouth and 
lungs. At first our little party sought relief by 
filing out upon the platform at each station, while a 
nimble Arab swept out the most of the dust from 
the seats and floor of the compartment. But it only 
made matters worse by raising stifling clouds about 
our heads, and we at last settled down in calm 
despair to endure what could not be helped. The 
station-houses were of wood, sometimes coated with 
a rough plaster, and nearly all built on the same 
plan — a platform in front, and a central hall, with 
suites of rooms on the right and left. 

The natives who gathered about the train were 
pitiful to behold, half-clad but eager-eyed, with 
baskets of oranges, dates, or Arab bread, poised on 
their heads. The oranges were delicious, and so 
cheap that a piastre (two and a half pence) would 
buy a lapful of the juicy fruit. The children danced 
for joy when we threw them some bits of bread and 
chicken-bones. They grabbed for the treasures with 
their little brown hands, and tucked them safely 
away in their bosoms. 

The Arabs don every variety of costume. The 
highest officials wear European dress. The middle- 
class array themselves in a grotesque combination, 
consisting of a long broadcloth coat, buttoned close 
over a loose white gown hanging to their ankles. 


AFLOAT ON THE NILE. 


235 


Many of the men strolled about with knitting in 
their hands, working busily while they talked. 

Most of the towns we passed were of little conse¬ 
quence— being made up of a few poor huts and the 
station house ; but others had been colonized by the 
French, and contained large sugar and pottery fac¬ 
tories. Arab pottery — which is an important in¬ 
dustry— is made from the mud deposit of the Nile,, 
and dried in the sun. The w T ater-jugs, or carafes , 
keep the water wonderfully cool, and are used on 
all the hotel tables. 

If the scenes of this journey lacked the charm of 
picturesqueness, they were certainly novel. At one 
town our train passed the market-place, and leaning 
out of our window to watch the curious crowd of 
black faces hovering over their dingy wares, we 
were horrified to see in their very midst a man 
swinging on the gallows, with a placard containing 
his accusation pinned to his waistcoat. People went 
on with their trading as if nothing unusual had 
occurred. At another station we met a funeral pro¬ 
cession. A little child was laid upon a rude bier, 
with a blanket thrown over it. The men walked 
ahead, and the women behind, beating the body 
with black cloths, and uttering plaintive wails. 
Once, startled by loud cries, we looked out and saw 
a woman, apparently in the most abject grief, seated 
on the ground, rocking backward and forward, and 


236 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


throwing dust on her head. Her female friends 
surrounded her, and tried to raise her up. She 
would rise and walk a few steps; then drop on the 
ground and begin wailing again. 

At seven o’clock the train reached Siout. For¬ 
merly the steamboat landing was near the station; but 
the Nile has retreated, leaving a sandy plateau, lialf- 
a-mile in width, between the town and the river. 
Tired and dusty, we stumbled over the dark road 
by the dismal light of a lantern. Two of the klie- 
dive’s mail-boats leave Siout every week for Upper 
Egypt. Ours was the worst one of the line — 
though happily we did not know it. It was a side- 
wheel steamer, with poor accommodations. The 
first night, we ran aground on a sand-bar; but this 
proved to be an almost hourly occurrence, and soon 
failed to create the least excitement. 

We used to watch the men saying their prayers 
when the sun went down. Turning toward Mecca, 
they placed their hands on their hearts, bowed to the 
ground, called on Allah, and looked heavenward. 
Some of the women had very pretty Turkish rugs to 
sit upon, and nearly all of them kept their faces 
religiously concealed. 

Afloat on the wondrous Nile ! It was a strange 

© 

life, but singularly fascinating. What long, sunny, 
June-like days ! What glorious sun-risings — when 
we were up to see them — and still more glorious 


AFLOAT ON THE NILE. 


237 


sun-sets, when the king of day bent toward the hor¬ 
izon, his great disc growing ruddier every moment, 
and shooting forth dazzling spears of light that dyed 
earth, sky, and water, with a thousand varied hues. 
Then, as we watched breathlessly the changing 
color, the last beam faded, and night was upon us. 
Owing to the extreme clearness of the atmosphere, 
there was scarcely any twilight. 

We were three days in going to Luxor, and two in 
returning ; although some people take a month for 
the trip, and a much longer time if visiting the second 
cataract. Then they go in their own dahabeah , but 
are liable to meet with all sorts of delays if the winds 
are not favorable. There is much danger, too, as 
sudden gusts of wind often sweep down from the 
high cliffs and capsize sailing boats. 

There was much to interest us along the way, 
although the banks of the Nile are not lovely. 
Sometimes they are very sterile, and only sand- 
plains, and precipitous lime-stone hills perforated 
with tombs, can be seen; again, where wells have 
been dug, and the land irrigated, they are green 
and garden-like. The wells are of two kinds — the 
sakici , worked by buffalo or oxen, consists of an end¬ 
less chain of jars that dip in the water and empty 
themselves in descending; and the shadoof , worked 
by men, which is a long pole like a well-sweep 
with a bucket at one end and a weight at the 


238 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


other. The river is very winding, and changes its 
channel constantly. Indeed, we saw places where 
villages were being washed away, that had a short 
time before stood far from the banks. The Nile 
has six cataracts, but beyond the second it is 
broad and shallow, with the current so rapid that 
boats must be pulled up-stream by bands of natives. 
The water was already falling rapidly, and large 
steamers would not be able to ascend after Febrm 
ary. We passed many pretty dahabeahs, and a 
steamer full of English soldiers, sick or wounded in 
the war, who were being sent on a health-trip up 
the Nile. 

We touched at many landings. As soon as our 
vessel came in sight, swarms of miserable natives 
would fly down to meet us, screaming, fighting, and 
rolling over each other on the way. Lively young¬ 
sters swam about in the water begging for back¬ 
sheesh ; indeed, there was scarcely anything they 
wouldn’t do for a piastre. 

From one village, on our return, we took on 
board six soldiers, chained together. Pitiful wails 
rose from the crowds on the shore as the steamer 
moved away, the women beating the air frantic¬ 
ally and throwing dust on their heads. To be 
drafted is considered a dire affliction. The unfort¬ 
unates bid their friends good-bye, never expecting 
to see them again ; and if, after long years, they 


‘PITIFUL WAILS ROSE FROM THE CROWDS ON THE SHORE. 


oc 








































AFLOAT ON THE NILE . 


239 


return home, they find themselves forgotten and 
disowned by their families. A few years ago, 
it was not uncommon for men to amputate a first 
finger, or put out an eye, to avoid being drafted; 
but a law forbids it now, and to punish the cow¬ 
ardly ones, a regiment has been formed entirely of 
one-eyed men. The people in this part of the coun¬ 
try proved much braver during the late war than 

9 

those in the Delta, and made excellent riflemen. 
The Arabs are so much like children that when, at 
the close of the war, they were called up to receive 
their pay with the English soldiers, the simple- 
hearted creatures did not understand why they 
were given so much money, and some of them act¬ 
ually carried it back to the officers. 

At another point, we saw several hundred men 
down in the damp malarious earth, digging a canal. 
They receive no pay for this work, and are virtually 
slaves to the sheik, who rules over them with no 
very tender hand. The sheiks are nominally elect¬ 
ive, and perhaps would not be cruel if they were 
not crushed beneath the load of such heavy taxes. 
Everything is taxable — even the palm trees, so 
that around many of the villages the natives have 
cut them down to avoid this payment. 

One of our fellow-passengers—an English anti¬ 
quarian who spends nearly every winter in Egypt — 
to whom we chanced to speak admiringly, one even- 


240 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


mg, of some of the palaces in Cairo, surprised us 
by saying: 

“But how were they built? Did not Ismail, 
the ex-khedive, drag thousands of these poor 
people from their homes in the country, and make 
them slave for him, without a farthing of paj r — not 
even providing their daily food ? Haven't I seen 
delicate little girls toiling up hill with their heavy 
burdens under the shadow of the lash ? This par¬ 
ticular palace you admire so much, occupies the 
site of an older one which for some reason did not 
please his majesty, and although in perfectly good 
condition it was razed to the ground to make room 
for the present edifice.” 

“Then you don’t think much of Ismail?” we ven¬ 
tured to ask. 

“ I think he is a beastly scoundrel.” 

“What do you think of the present kliedive ? ” 

“Oh, he is only a fool. The fact is, the poorer 
classes have been oppressed for years by Turkish 
tyrants, and when they begin to show a little spirit, 
the English crush it out by a bloody massacre.” 

“Are you not an Englishman?” we asked, 
bewildered. 

“Yes, but I do not approve of England’s policy 
in the late war.” 

“What have you to say, Colonel Wilson?” 
asked a gentleman in our party, appealing to the 


AFLOA T ON THE NILE . 


241 


dignified gentleman opposite, who had been actively 
engaged in the struggle, and after the capture of 
Arabi, entered Alexandria in company with the 
illustrious insurgent himself. 

U I decline to give an opinion,” was the perhaps 
judicious answer. 

At Keneli we took donkeys and rode to Den- 
derah, several miles distant. The temple here is the 
best preserved in Egypt, although not the largest. 
It was erected in the time of the emperor Tiberius, 
and patronized by Cleopatra, whose image, sur¬ 
mounted by the symbol of a deity, is cut in the 
exterior walls. The hieroglyphics which decorate 
the walls of the inner chambers are clearlv cut, and 
in many places the coloring matter remains almost 
as perfect as when it was first put on. 

On returning to Siout, we met an English lady— 
Mrs. Wright, wife of the English inspector of the 
mail-boats — who has lived among the Arabs for 
three years with scarcely any other society. She 
invited us to take tea with her at her home, which 
we found very pretty and European. Speaking of 
the peculiarities of natives as servants, she told us 
it was almost impossible to make them obey with¬ 
out the use of the lash. They expected it, and 
knew nothing different; but flogging has been pro¬ 
hibited by the English government. 


16 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


THE HEART OF EGYPT. 


IXOR is on the Nile, four hundred miles from 



Cairo. The ruins of Thebes lie just across the 
river, and those of Karnak an hour’s walk south of 
the village. In the midst of a sweet-scented gar¬ 
den, grown with acacia, date, and locust trees, 
stands the Luxor Hotel — rambling and low, with a 
flat roof, and breezy verandas on which the bed¬ 
rooms open by low glass doors. About the front 
door were arranged all kinds of Egyptian curiosi¬ 
ties, while the white-turbaned Arab servants who 
darted out upon us from every nook and passage, 
with their pleasant u HH-lrfier” (“ good-morning ”), 
gave the place still more of an oriental air. 

Our first duty was to select a guide; and Abra¬ 
ham— a fine fellow, dressed in a yellow-silk shirt 
under an over-gown of purple merino, with flowing 
sleeves — seemed in our eyes the fittest. Indeed, 
w r as he not cousin to Joseph, the head dragoman, 
and brother-in-law to the governor’s son? What 
further recommendation could be needed ? 

When we set out for Karnak, the sun was broil¬ 
ing, and the road as dusty as it possibly can be in 


242 


THE HEART OF EGYPT. 


243 


a country where rain is scarcely known. Our route 
lay through the miserable village of Luxor. The 
houses were of unburnt brick, and were roofed with 
dried cornstalks. We ventured to look into one. 
A woman sat in a corner grinding corn between two 
stones. There was not an article of furniture — 
simply the bare mud walls and floor, and a few 
rude cooking utensils. Just outside the door was 
an earthen tub, raised a few feet above the ground, 
where the inmates sleep in summer, from fear of the 
scorpions. 

The liveliest place was the town-square, enclosed 
within a circle of these mud houses. Donkeys, 
camels, buffaloes, and children swarmed about us, 
with discordant cries. A pack of snarling dogs fol¬ 
lowed close behind, while a bevy of little boys ap¬ 
peared in front, screaming for backsheesh. Their 
heads were shaven, with only a single long black 
lock left on the crown to charm away sickness. The 
flies were intolerable, and would not be driven 
away. Poor eyesight is very common among the 
natives. Little children sometimes become quite 
blind by rubbing over their faces the juice of the 
sugar-cane they are constantly eating, which attracts 
swarms of flies. The irritation caused by these in¬ 
sects, with the glaring sun-light and clouds of fine 
sand blown about in the air, destroys the sight. 

At last we emerged from this bedlam into the 


244 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


open country. The fields were green with the half- 
ripened barley, wheat, peas, and sugar-cane. All 
along the road the sakia and shadoof wells had 
been dug for drawing up the Nile water and direct¬ 
ing it into artificial channels for irrigating the farms. 
Only on the land so watered can two crops be 
grown each season. 

“ Do you work at the wells ?” I asked of Abra¬ 
ham, as we passed some natives toiling in the hot 
sun. 

“No, Miss,’'—with much dignity— “ my ser¬ 
vants do that.” 

“Your people are very poor, Abraham; what 
do they eat ? ” 

“Camel's flesh and buffalo; sometimes, if they 
are very poor, rats.” 

“ Rats ? ” 

“Yes, they grow large here. Buffalo meat is 
good. We make butter from the milk. That is all 
there is in Luxor.’’ 

We recalled the little greenish-white moulds we 
had seen on the breakfast-table, which the Arab 
waiter had told us was buffalo-butter. It had an 
insipid taste, like lard, and we had turned away 
from it with disgust. 

“Are you a Mohammedan ? ” we asked again. 

“ I am, Miss.” 

“ How often do you say your prayers ? ” 


THE HEART OF EGYPT. 


245 


“Five times a day in summer ; but only twice in 
winter, because I am a dragoman, and very busy, 
then.” 

“ Were you born in Luxor?” 

“ Yes.” 

“Would you like to go away? Are you happy 
here ? ” 

“I would like to see Cairo — but I am happy 
here, it is my home.” 

“ Are you married ? ” 

“Yes, Miss, I married my wife last year.” 

“ Have you more than one ? ” 

“Ho.” 

“ How old is your wife ? ” 

“Sixteen now. She is the daughter of the Eng¬ 
lish consul.” 

The double row of colossal sphinxes that once 
connected the temple of Luxor with that of Karnak 
has almost entirely disappeared. A few remains 
still guard the approach to Ptolemy’s pylon. Pass¬ 
ing under this wonderful arch, we hastened on to 
the temple and palace of Karnak. Here two hours 
were spent in wandering among the ruins, admiring 
the reeded columns in the great hall, with their cap¬ 
itals of lotus and papyrus flowers, studying the 
hieroglyphics, gazing upon the mighty blocks that 
formed the roof over our heads, and trying hard to 
realize how great a man was Kameses II., and that 


246 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


he lived hundreds, yes, thousands of years, ago. Of 
course we were inspired, because it was the proper 
way to feel under such circumstances ; but somehow 
the flies and beggars wouldn’t let us soar very high. 

On our way home we visited a Coptic school, 
established by our American mission. There were 
seventy children present, sixty-seven boys and three 
girls. The school-room was cool, with a brick floor 
and wooden benches, which was a step in advance 
of the native schools, where the pupils sit on the 
floor. The teacher was a bright young man, who 
was going to Cairo in a few months to study for the 
ministry. He teaches the children English, Arabic, 
arithmetic, geography, and the catechism. Some of 
the boys were called up for us to catechise, and their 
knowledge of Bible history made us ashamed of our 
ignorance. One of the brightest pupils, a girl of 
fifteen, had just left the school, as her father could 
no longer allow her to appear unveiled before the 
world. 

During our last day in Luxor, Abraham took us 
to visit his harem. On the way there we passed a 
rude hut, with a rug spread on the ground in front 
of the door, where a dozen Arabs sat smoking and 
sipping coffee. 

“They mourn,” Abraham explained, in answer 
to our inquiries; “the man of this house is dead. 
This morning his friends came here and wailed and 


THE HEART OF EGYPT. 


247 


threw dust on their heads. Now each one must sit 
on this rug and mourn for him half an hour. The 
people in the house give them pipes and coffee.” 

“Did you sit there? ” 

“Yes, Miss, early this morning.” 

Abraham was a rich man. He lived in a house 
of two stories, much superior to the wretched huts 
about it. As we entered the court, a Nubian ser¬ 
vant greeted us, bowing low and kissing our hands. 
We were led to a small dark room up-stairs and 
seated on one of the divans. Soon Abraham’s 
young wife came in, dressed in a green-and-crimson- 
striped silk gown, and a black lace scarf, spangled 
with gold stars, over her head. We kissed her 
cheek as she came timidly toward us—a pretty girl 
with handsome eyes. 

A servant brought us coffee, and then Abraham 
opened a chest and showed us his wedding-gown — 
a gorgeous yellow silk — and richly embroidered 
vest. The chest was full of soft oriental silks of 
every shade and hue. Abraham presented us each 
with a handful of coins, mummy rings, and charms. 
We offered him money ; but he drew back with an 
offended air. 

“Your dragoman gives them to you,” he said; 
“he wants no backsheesh .” 

In the evening we were invited to a fantasia at 
the house of the English consul. He was an old 


248 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE . 


man, and a strict Mohammedan. His ancestors 
were not native Egyptians — these are seldom 
found except among the agricultural poor — but he 
was descended from the Arabian conquerors of the 
country. The consulate is built among the ruins of 
the temple at Luxor, overlooking the river. 

At eight o’clock the entertainment began. As 
we approached the house, the sound of Arabic 
music was heard. Achmed, the consul’s son, in 
European dress, opened the door, and conducted us 
into a side room, to remove our wraps. There we 
were introduced to the governor of Luxor, the post¬ 
master, and the consul himself; the latter wearing a 
white gown, a great Indian shawl about his shoul¬ 
ders, and the inevitable Turkish fez. This last 
article of dress is never laid aside, even at the 
table ; and it is said that the kliedive has made it a 
law that all foreigners in the government service 
shall don this characteristic cap. After we had 
paid our respects to the host, we were conducted to 
a seat on one of the divans in the salon. This was 
a large room, carpeted with Turkish rugs, and 
lighted with candles. It was filled with gentlemen 
of all races and colors ; but L. and I were the only 
ladies present. At the further end of the apart¬ 
ment, on the floor, sat the dancing-girls and 
musicians. The girls were attired in gay-colored 
silks and morocco slippers, and their hair was 


THE HEART OF EGYPT. 


249 


braided in fifty or more tiny strands, and left to 
hang down their backs. The band rattled away 
vigorously on their instruments of single and double 
strings. It was a weird kind of music. Presently 
the servant came in with pipes made of costly 
wood, several feet in length, the end of the pipe 
resting on the floor while it was being smoked. 
He offered us one of these, touching at the same 
time his hand to his head and heart, the usual sign 
of respect, which means literally, “I respect you 
from the top of my head to the bottom of my 
heart.” We declined his proffer as graciously as 
possible; but he soon returned with a tiny cup of 
steaming coffee. This is the favorite beverage of 
the natives, who drink it clear, and very strong. 
Of course we accepted the coffee, and, for fear of 
committing an unpardonable breach of etiquette, 
drained the cup, despite the bitter taste. 

Two of the dancing-girls now arose, and after 
profusely adorning their arms, necks, and waists 
with gold and silver chains, opened the fantasia. 
The excitement was intense. They wriggled, and 
writhed, and shook themselves with marvellous dex¬ 
terity, but in a manner anything but graceful to an 
American eye, all the while jingling an accompani¬ 
ment with the castanets which they wore on their 
fingers. The best dancer was a middle-aged woman 
of the old Egyptian type and dreadfully ugly. Most 


250 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


wonderful of all was the bottle-dance, in which one- 
of the girls performed all sorts of tricks, even to 
rolling over on the floor, while balancing on the 
crown of her head a tall bottle with a lighted candle 
in its mouth. Sir Charles Wilson, who was sitting 
near, whispered laughingly: 

“ See how the Arabs enjoy it ! They are a 
funny people. We put them in office for policy’s 
sake, but are obliged to watch them all the time. 
They are as superstitious as children, and believe in 
every kind of witchcraft and jugglery. I asked my 
servant one day if lie had ever seen a ghost. He 
said, 4 Yes, I saw one the other night sitting on the 
top of the Luxor obelisk.' The governor over 
there is a fine specimen of the better class, but lie 
is as credulous as the rest. I must tell you a story 
of what is a common belief among the Arabs. In 
every Egyptian temple there is supposed to be be¬ 
hind the altar a treasury which was there in ancient 
times, and still exists, filled with gold. One night 
an Arab determined to find it. Stealing out at 
midnight, by the light of the moon, he wound his 
way among the ruins of the nearest temple, and 
began to dig where he thought the treasury must 
be. He put in his hand and drew out a handful of 
glittering gold. He had found the treasure. Fill¬ 
ing the pouch in his bosom with gold, he hurried 
home and hid it away in a kettle. Every night 


THE HEART OF EGYPT. 


251 


he returned and brought home more and more. 
One night, as he was absorbed in purloining the 
treasure, he felt a presence, and looking up saw 
the fiery eyes of the sacred bull Apis flashing 
upon him. Dropping all, he fled from the temple, 
and hurried home to see if his kettle was still safe. 
Yes, there it was, full of the yellow gold. He put 
in his hand to draw some out, but the kettle 
receded. He bent over it, but down sank the kettle 
into the ground. He fell on his knees and reached 
out his arms in an agony of despair ; but the gold 
and kettle had disappeared — a just punishment for 
his greed.” 

Early in the evening we took our leave, a 
thoughtful friend having warned us that the enter¬ 
tainment would last all night, for those who were 
willing to stay. 


CHAPTER XXIY. 


THE TOMBS OF THE PHARAOHS. 

WO days were given to Thebes. All prepara- 



tions were made the night before, so as to give 
us an early start. The sun was shining bright in 
the morning — for there is no fear of a rainy day in 
Egypt — and the tall palms and orange trees were 
casting cool shadows in the garden. Abraham was 
waiting for us in his priest-like gown, and with a 
blanket-shawl wrapped about his neck—for the 
nights and mornings were chilly, and the Arabs 
are very sensitive to the cold. 

By eight we were off—our escort, L. and 
I, Abraham, and a Nubian boy with our lunch- 
basket poised on his head. A fresh breeze blew 
our light sail-boat across the Nile where the don¬ 
keys were awaiting us. What a deafening clamor 
greeted us as we neared the shore! Donkeys and 
donkey-boys fairly tumbled over one another in 
their eagerness to reach us. In the midst of this 
tumult we were at last safely mounted, L. on 
44 Soap-Suds,” I on 44 Hawk”—a black, shaggy 
little beast, which my boy assured me was, in spite of 
appearances, 44 good donkey —very good donkey.” 


252 


THE TOMBS OF THE PHARAOHS. 


253 


Three little Arab girls joined us, each carrying a 
jug of water on her head. They were bare-footed 
and ragged, but bright-eyed and smiling. 

Away we went, galloping over the smooth plain. 
The fine sand rose in clouds around us; but a cool 
breeze blew from the Nile, the sun was not yet hot, 
and our spirits were exuberant. Suddenly, at the 
end of a mile, our caravan halted. Across our path 
ran a crystal stream — an arm of the Nile. A rude 
barge stood several rods out from the shore. But 
how were we to reach it ? Before we had time to 
think, a stout Arab seized me in his arms, lifted me 
off my donkey, and waded through the water to the 
barge, where I was set down, safe but breathless. 
Then came L. and our escort; and lastly, Abraham, 
borne gravely between two Arabs, his arms around 
their necks. Now for the donkeys. The unwilling 
beasts were pushed and dragged into the water, then 
tumbled on board by successive jerks of their tails, 
ears, and legs. A few minutes’ paddling brought 
us to the other side. Again we were picked up by 
the Arabs, amid peals of laughter at the funny sight, 
carried to shore, and seated once more on our drip¬ 
ping donkeys. We filed along a grassy ridge, on 
either side of which were Nile-watered fields, green 
and flourishing. Buffaloes grazed on the sweet grass, 
while lines of camels marched along with dignified 
tread, followed by Arab herdsmen, who gave us the 


254 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE . 


graceful Eastern salute: u Es-salam dleikum ! ”— 
“Peace be with thee”; touching, at the same time, 
their hands to their forehead and heart, to which 
Abraham taught us to reply: “ U'dleikum es- 
saldm / ”—“And with thee be peace.” 

We passed mud villages, usually surrounded by 
mud walls. The dark-skinned Arabs darting in and 
out of their low brown hovels, that scarcely rose 
above the level of the plain, reminded us at a dis¬ 
tance of ants swarming about their hills. Some¬ 
times we saw, in the midst of these mud villages, a 
house rudely plastered on the outside, and with un¬ 
painted wooden blinds — a mark of advancing civili¬ 
zation. Such a house always belonged to the sheik. 

Soon we reached the small temple of Koorneh, 
and stopped a few moments to admire it; then, 
remounting, set our faces steadily toward the sand¬ 
stone hills. Vegetation disappeared; not a blade of 
grass was to be seen,— not a sound was heard save 
our own voices and the footfall of the donkeys and 
boys over the sand-strewn plain. The sun was near¬ 
ing the zenith, and beat down relentlessly upon us, 
dazzling our eyes and making our heads heavy. My 
little Arab girl came up and offered her pitcher. I 
put it to my lips and drank eagerly. And now the 
boys who had followed us took from their bosoms — 
the place where every Arab hides his treasures — 
bags of beautiful green beetles, and urged us to buy. 


THE TOMBS OF THE PHARAOHS. 


255 


They had caught the insects in the field, and many 
of them were still alive. These poor Arab boys 
touched our hearts. Even the older ones were like 
children, coming up beside us, patting our cheeks 
and hair, stroking admiringly our ribbons and 
flounces ; then, pointing to themselves, and trying 
to say : u Pretty ! Give it to little boy.” 

Hotter it grew — higher and more impressive 
rose the still mountains above us — yellow, dazzling, 
awful, like giant castles, shutting us within their 
mysterious walls. On we paced — slowly and 
silently; and just when it seemed to us we could 
go no farther, we stopped. We were in a basin. 
Around us were the hills; under our feet a sand¬ 
stone floor, above us the sky. Not a bird twit¬ 
tered— only a few dusky faces looked into ours. 
This was the cemetery of ages, and the openings in 
the heart of the hills led to the tombs of the old 
Egyptian kings. Each great monarch built one for 
himself. Some lived to see their tombs completed. 
Others died while they were yet unfinished, and 
were hurried into their sepulchres, the entrance- 
doors were sealed, and the place covered up. The 
old kings vainly thought these tombs would remain 
forever undiscovered. ITow would they have felt, 
to awaken from their long sleep of four thousand 
years, and find these sacred precincts echoing with 
the unhallowed footsteps of students and tourists — 


256 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


even two American girls prying curiously into tlieir 
hidden depths ! 

We alighted before one of the finest of the 
tombs—that of Raineses III. The entrance was 
nearly buried under the sand, but the part above 
ground was still lofty. It led to a spacious corri¬ 
dor. The walls and ceiling were smooth, and cov¬ 
ered with elegantly-cut hieroglyphics, on a founda¬ 
tion of grayish stucco. The red, yellow and blue 
colors that ornamented it looked nearly as fresh as 
when first laid on. It is still a mystery how the 
ancients mixed their pigments to endure so long. 
About the floor of the corridor were scattered the 
cooking-pans and apparatus of a party of scientists, 
who ate and slept in the tomb while they carried 
on their explorations. 

As we passed from the corridor through several 
palatial chambers cut out of the rock, whose walls 
were ornamented with those wonderful paintings 
which tell of the exploits of the king whose name 
the tomb bears, we entered the inmost chamber— 
the sanctuary of the tomb. In the centre stood a 
colossal granite sarcophagus, its cover turned aside. 
We climbed up at one end and peered over the thick 
wall into its depths. It was empty. We visited 
in all fourteen tombs. At each entrance our candles 
were lighted and we went groping down into the 
darkness. In some places the damp walls were 


THE TOMBS OF THE PHARAOHS. 


257 


coated with wasps’ nests, and we fled by in fear and 
trembling. The air was stifling. There were sudden 
pitfalls and curious turns in the dark chambers, that 
even our candles .would not reveal; so, supported 
between two Arabs, we went stumbling over the 
rough stones. Once, in a far-away dismal chamber, 
with the black eyes of our Arabs flashing about us, 
a sudden tapping and a hollow sepulchral voice 
started the cold sweat on our foreheads. Then 
Abraham, lifting his candle aloft, revealed against 
the wall — a man, mounted on a step-ladder, taking 
impressions of the hieroglyphics on sheets of 
brown paper that his Egyptian boy handed to him 
from below. 

“ Abraham! ” I cried, breathless and foot-sore, 
“how many tombs are there ?” 

“Fourteen, Miss.” 

“They are so much alike; do people visit them 
all ? ” 

“ Oh, no.” 

“ Then why do we ? ” 

“Miss said to her dragoman this morning, 
‘Abraham, show me everything to-day.’ I good 
dragoman. I keep my word.” 

We ate our dinner in the cool shadow of a rock 

at the entrance of one of the tombs. The company 

of Arabs retired a short distance, then squatted in a 

semi-circle and watched us with hungry eyes while 
17 


258 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE . 


we ate and tossed them bits. Abraham also stood 
off respectfully, half-way between us and the com¬ 
mon herd. When we had finished, he ate his own 
lunch, then distributed what remained among the 
eager-eyed children. Dinner over, we sat down in 
the sand to rest. The boys gathered around us 
with their odd Egyptian trinkets. In their group 
was an old man. Where he came from, it was 
impossible to guess. He certainly had not followed 
us from Luxor. He wore a single loose hempen 
gown. From his weazen face shone two eagle-like 
eyes. His hands were thin and bony, while the few 
hairs on his head were white and matted. Forth 
from his bosom he drew a large bundle of some¬ 
thing wrapped in mummy cloth, and kneeling 
before us began to unroll it. Out came mummy 
hands, mummy feet, beads, sacred eyes, chains, and 
little stone mummies taken from the mummy-cases. 
He spread them on the ground at our feet, and 
glared at us with his sharp eyes, giving a “humph! 
humph ! ” of satisfaction. One of the boys venturing 
to display his package, the old man grasped his stick 
and started after him threateningly. We picked up 
a mummy hand wrapped in mummy cloth. The old 
man snatched it away, and began to unroll it, then 
thrust it in our very faces, with a “humph! ” It 
was a woman’s hand, delicate and shapely. The 
fingers were long and slender and the nails perfect. 





















































THE TOMBS OF THE PHARAOHS. 


259 


On the middle linger was a blue ring. We looked 
at it thoughtfully. It would be interesting to carry 
home a mummy hand from Egypt. Should it be a 
hand or a foot? We held up the hand before the 
old man. 

“ How much ? ” 

“ Half-franc.” 

“ Half-a-franc ?—ten cents ? I will take it.” 

The bargain was made, and I gave my prize to 
Abraham to stow away in his basket. 

In the afternoon we had a hot climb up the 
mountain-side, but were well repaid by the lovely 
panorama spread at our feet. There was the Hile, 
with its fertile valley shut in by the hills. Karnak 
and its ruins were far in the distance ; and nearer 
were the ruins of Thebes, and the mighty giants 
of the plain, Memnon and his companion, keeping 
their silent watch. We toiled through the sand to 
the tombs of the priests — now almost buried out of 
sight. Hear by is the recently discovered tomb of 
the kings. All we could see was a circular opening, 
sixty feet deep, in the rock. A corridor branches 
off at the bottom and leads to the chambers in the 
tomb beyond. What treasures were found there! 
Rich sarcophagi, the mummies of the old Pharaohs — 
kings whose existence had seemed a myth—jewels, 
coins, and papyrus. By some strange fate this 
tomb lay for ages sealed and unknown. An Arab, 


260 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


delving in the sand for curiosities, accidentally dis¬ 
covered it. He kept his secret, but robbed some of 
the coffins, and began selling the relics to tourists. 
These treasures attracted attention. They were far 
too rare to be in the hands of a common Arab, and 
a scientist, fixing upon this man as the purloiner, 
ordered his arrest. But it was only after an impris¬ 
onment of two months that the Arab was forced to 
reveal his secret and show the tomb. It was found 
to be one of the richest. The mummies were taken 
out and carried down to Cairo. As the boat sailed 
slowly down the river, crowds of dusky-faced na¬ 
tives gathered along the banks, uttering plaintive 
wails for the dead. 

As we turned away, I said to Abraham : 

“ Did you know the Arab who found this tomb? ” 

“ Yes, Miss,” lowering his voice to a mysterious 
whisper ; “ he great friend of mine. He was drag¬ 
oman like me. He dig in the sand for gold and 
mummies to sell to people; but he always go at 
night — all Arabs do. If they go in day-time, the 
sheik find it out and punish them. One night he 
dig with his hand — then all at once touch some¬ 
thing hard. It is a rock. He thinks it is a tomb, 
and opens it—I know not how. Ah ! he find great 
things — mummies and gold — so much! like the 
stars. He tells no one ; but he very glad. He 
rich man.” 


THE TOMBS OF THE PHARAOHS. 


261 


4 ‘But lie had to tell about it. What did lie do 
then ? ” 

“ He sorry; but the khedive pay him money to 
tell it. He very rich man now." 

We mounted our donkeys, and wound our way 
slowly down the mountain, over the green fields to 
the Nile, where our little water-girls left us. They 
had walked all day, fourteen weary miles, yet were 
smiling as ever. Abraham paid them each ten 
cents ; and, with a laugh, they went tripping away 
to some mud huts in the distance. 

The stars were out as we sailed back to Luxor. 
A merry party, we gathered around the dining-table 
in the hotel. Tourists had come in from far and 
near. There were tired feet and sunburned faces, 
but stories, good-cheer, and merriment. 

Hext morning, Aclnned, the son of the English 
consul, a French scientist, and Sir Charles Wilson 
joined us. The consul had sent his own boat and 
boatmen to take us across the river. The boat was 
furnished with Turkish rugs and soft white cush¬ 
ions. Achmed was very attentive. He was a 
good-looking young man, wore European dress, 
and spoke English. The oarsmen, in clean blue 
gowns, pulled away to the music of an Arabic love- 
song. It was a strange and weird melody. 

“Cry ‘ ah — ah! ’ if you are pleased,” said 
Achmed. 


262 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


We cried it till our tliroats ached. The Arabs 
were delighted, and began again with renewed 
vigor. 

“They please you?” asked Achmed. “Then 
they give you a concert to-night.” 

Our second day, we visited the nearer Theban 
ruins. Chief among them was the Memnonium, 
with its vast walls and beautiful sculptures. In the 
midst of the ruins lies the colossal figure of 
Raineses the Great. It has been broken off at the 
waist, and now lies on the ground. “The Arabs 
have scooped mill-stones out of his face, but you 
can still see what he was—the largest statue in the 
world.” 

Medeenet Haboo is one of the best-preserved 
temples. The walls are adorned with the same 
wonderful hieroglyphics. One never grows tired 
of studying them. It is like a picture-book. There 
we see the old Egyptians as they lived — going to 
war, carrying their dead to burial, rowing in their 
queer old barges on the Nile (whose ripples are 
represented by a series of wave-lines), eating and 
drinking, cooking in the kitchen, pouring wine into 
casks, and punishing their criminals. Achmed was 
always discovering something new, and calling us 
to see it. But to him, the pictures were mere cari¬ 
catures. They amused him—beyond that he knew 
and cared little. 


THE TOMBS OF THE PHARAOHS. 263 

We lunched amidst the ruins of the temple. 
Achmed gallantly offered us some of his hard bread 
and thick milk in a pottery bowl, then proved him¬ 
self an Arab by eating everything with his lingers. 
The usual crowd of black faces hovered around us. 
Suddenly our eyes fell upon the old man we had 
seen the day before — more scrawny and weazen¬ 
faced than ever. He seemed to be the very wizard 
of the tombs. 

“What is your name, old fellow?” cried our 
knight, tossing him a hard-boiled egg. 

“Rameses II.!” replied the old man, with a 
chuckle. 

We saved the Colossi — Yocal Memnon and his 
twin — till the last, when the setting-sun bathed them 
in a sea of glory. With hands resting on their 
knees, their eyes turned steadily to the Orient, they 
watch and wait through the circling ages. The 
Nile at its flood laves their feet, where we saw 
stretching a soft green carpet. We turned toward 
the hills for a last good-bye,—filed once more 
across the fields, stepped into our boat, and Thebes 
was lost in the darkness. 


CHAPTER XXY. 


A TURKISH WEDDING. 


T was the best bit of luck in the world ! We 



~ L - were on our way to the tombs of the caliphs, in 
Cairo, when Ali, chancing to espy signs of festivity 
on a side street, drove down that way to let us see 
the fun. It proved to be a grand wedding at the 
house of a Bey. The mansion was several stories 
high, with dark roughly-plastered walls — its only 
adornment the unpainted latticed windows protrud¬ 
ing from the front. 

Ali had a few moments’ conversation with oue of 
his friends, and the result was that a gentleman of 
the family came out and asked if the ladies would 
not like to visit the harem. 

Eagerly assenting, we were hurried by a Nubian 
servant through the court and up the rough wooden 
staircase to the great salon. This was a handsome 
apartment, furnished in oriental style, with rich 
Turkish rugs carpeting the floor and covering the 
long divans placed against the walls. Eifty or 
more inquisitive eyes were turned upon the 
strangers as they entered and with some trepidation 
took the seats proffered them on the nearest divan. 


264 


A TURKISH WEDDING. 


265 


Everybody was full of excitement, and all chatted 
merrily together, exactly like a bevy of gay Ameri¬ 
cans. Not a gentleman was present, for even at 
the marriage ceremony they are strictly forbidden 
to meet the fair sex. 

The ladies were in evening dress; but it would 
need the pen of Mark Twain to describe their cos¬ 
tumes— of silks and satins, in blue, pink, saffron, 
orange, purple, yellow, green — every conceivable 
color except black. The robes were not modelled 
after Worth, but made loose at the waist, with demi- 
trains and full skirts, and were decked with beads or 
lace. On their feet the ladies wore sandals or slippers 
of colored morocco. Their head-gear consisted of 
ostrich feathers, wreaths of artificial flowers or tur¬ 
bans. Over their jetty eyebrows were two streaks 
of black paint, a quarter of an inch wide, and taper¬ 
ing toward the nose. But the most striking 
fashion-mark was the red dye, extracted from the 
leaves of the henna tree, with which the finger-nails 
and palms of the hands were colored. 

The slaves were wondrously attired, from the 
jingling bells on their toes to the tall muslin caps 
on their heads. They paced gravely through the 
apartments, serving the guests with coffee, and 
with cigarettes, which were carried in fancy straw 
baskets tied with colored ribbons. The coffee was 
borne about on small round trays, each tiny 


266 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


china cup being set within another cup of silver or 
brass. 

A painful silence followed our appearance. It 
was a ‘‘Quaker meeting.” We looked at every¬ 
body, and everybody looked at us ; but not a word 
was spoken. Then we smiled and bowed, and 
mechanically repeated in turn every Arabic expres¬ 
sion found in the guide-book, whether appropriate 
to the occasion or not, for we had a frantic desire to 
keep up polite appearances lest these foreign sisters 
should find us intruders. 

Finally one lady was found who could speak a 
few words of German. She came to our rescue, 
and taking us each by an arm, asked if we would 
like to see the brides. This was the height of our 
ambition; and we eagerly followed her through 
several halls to a small dressing-room. Here she 
motioned us to wait until our arrival should be 
announced. 

In the meantime, two of the smiling damsels 
present—one in green silk, the other in red with 
yellow stripes — brought some flowers and rib¬ 
bons, and indicated by signs that they wished us 
to arrange them in their hair. Think of Ameri¬ 
can girls helping to dress Arab girls for a wed¬ 
ding ! Delighted with the novelty of the situation, 
we at once began twining the gay blossoms in and 
out among their dark tresses — then led them to a 


A TURKISH WEDDING. 


267 


mirror for an inspection of our work, which ap¬ 
peared to give great satisfaction. 

Just at this moment our German-speaking friend 
returned for us, the doors were thrown open, and 
we were ushered into the chamber of the right- 
royal ladies. The room was bright and cheery, 
with rugs and handsome drapery. On a crimson 
divan or throne, approached by several steps, sat 
in state the two little brides. They were sisters — 
one fifteen, the other twelve. As a mark of dis¬ 
tinction, we were offered the seats of honor on 
either side of the divan, beside the brides ; but we 
modestly took chairs instead. In the centre of the 
room were two small tables for the wedding pres¬ 
ents. On one was placed a dainty silver coffee-set 
lined with gold; on the other, were cigarette- 
holders, and a match-safe of decorated china. 

Two demurer persons than these youthful 
fiancees can scarcely be imagined. There they sat, 
without speaking or being spoken to, their hands 
folded, and their eyes cast steadily upon the floor 
during the entire time we were present. They 
wore thin white dresses, embroidered slippers, and 
long veils garnished with orange blossoms and gold 
and silver strands. The younger bride was very 
pretty,—had a soft complexion, lustrous black eyes, 
and cherry lips, but looked as if she ought to be 
romping out of doors instead of waiting to be married. 


268 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


The room was filled with women, children, and 
servants, sitting on the floor and divans, or flit¬ 
ting about, smoking, sipping coffee, and evidently 
enjoying the unusual excitement. Such quantities 
of beautiful diamonds ! Some of the ladies wore 
great sprays of them, one jewel of which would be 
considered a prize at home. 

Presently the mother of the brides came in, 
attired in purple silk, and greeted us very gra¬ 
ciously. Every few minutes one of the ladies 
present, putting her two forefingers in the corners 
of her mouth, would utter a peculiar shrill cry, like 
a whistle — supposed to denote joy. A large towel 
was spread on the floor, just at the foot of the 
throne. This we supposed was for the reception of 
bridal gifts, since almost every one dropped into it 
a large silver coin. While querying what our duty 
might be in the case, it was explained to us that 
this was a present for the aged nurses of the 
brides. 

At this point, the monotony was broken by sev¬ 
eral ladies coming forward and leading the bride of 
fifteen out of the room, with many blushes and 
great hesitation on her part. She was conducted to 
another apartment, there to await the groom. 
Once alone with his betrothed, he will lift the veil 
from her face, which he now looks upon for the 
first time ; and if pleased, will call to the women 


A TURKISH WEDDING. 


269 


waiting anxiously outside, who immediately raise 
the zaghdreet , or cry of joy. While she was absent, 
we were shown the bridal chamber, with its gilt 
furniture, handsome lace pillows, and crimson satin 
drapings heavily embroidered with gold. Sud¬ 
denly the beating of cymbals and tambourines an¬ 
nounced the approach of the newly-wedded pair. 
All the ladies and the other little bride flew ex¬ 
citedly into side rooms, and drew the curtains. L. 
and I, being foreigners, were pushed alone into the 
salon, and allowed to view the proceedings with 
uncovered faces. 

First entered an attendant in blue, sounding a 
musical instrument. Then two tall black slaves 
came in and stationed themselves on either side of 
the door. Now appeared the groom, a good-looking 
young man, leading his bride, with her veil thrown 
over her face. After seating her upon the divan, 
he left her immediately ; whereupon all the women 
rushed out from their hiding-places, arranged the 
little lady’s drapery, kissed her trembling lips, and 
appeared more jubilant than ever. What became 
of the other sister we did not wait to see, but with¬ 
out doubt she was conducted in and out in the same 
manner. 

From an upper window, we were allowed to look 
into the gentlemen’s salon below. It seemed to be 
an annex of the main building, on the ground floor, 


'270 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


and opened directly upon the street through Nubian 
curtains. Around the walls were hung Turkish and 
Arabic flags, and two bands of musicians played 
lively strains, while the men chatted, smoked, and 
drank coffee from those small china cups we so 
greatly admired. 

At seven o’clock, dinner was served. After all, 
this was the grand event of the day. The dining- 
hall was a large bare room, devoid of plaster, paint, 
or paper. But the beautiful flags draped about the 
walls gave it a cheerful air in spite of the dim light 
from the candles suspended in glass lanterns over¬ 
head. Eight or ten of us were provided with chairs 
around a table holding a great green tray, which 
had a low rim around the edge. Two French ladies 
and ourselves were the only foreigners present. 
Several side dishes were already placed on the tray 
— pickled olives, whipped cream, etc. After wash¬ 
ing our hands by holding them over a basin while 
one of the slaves poured water on them, we sat 
down to eat. The napkins were brown liand-towels, 
fringed at each end. In the centre of the table was 
placed a tureen containing vegetable soup. Into 
this each lady dipped her bone-spoon, Chinese fash¬ 
ion, and motioned us to do the same ; so, as there 
was no alternative, we fell to work in good earnest. 
In a twinkling the soup was removed, and a fine 
roast turkey took its place. What was our amaze- 


A TURKISH WEDDING. 


271 


ment to see the flesh torn away by the guests with 
their fingers, and eaten without knife, fork, or plate! 
Then followed, in quick succession, boiled beef and 
spiced apple-sauce, thick cream, pastry, rice-sau¬ 
sages, and many unfamiliar dishes, till fourteen 
courses had been served, not counting the fruit. 
Moreover, the whole meal was consumed, and hands 
washed, within fifteen minutes from the time we sat 
down; and every dish except the soup was eaten 
with the fingers. 

As a mark of special favor, the ladies would 
occasionally break off a choice bit and hand to us, 
which was always accepted with thanks. Indeed, 
politeness forbade our refusing any dish, although it 
was sometimes swallowed with a struggle. Our 
presence occasioned a good deal of merriment to 
these Turkish dames, but we would have been will¬ 
ing to afford them twice as much for the pleasure 
they gave us. We took our leave early, and found 
faithful Ali waiting below, who assured us the fes¬ 
tivities would continue with increasing excitement 
till early dawn. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


OUR FIRST WEEK IN PALESTINE. 

X the last Sunday of February, early in the 



morning, the “ Achilles’" steamed in sight of 
Jafla. The sun shone bright and warm, though 
the passage from Port Said had been rough, and it 
had been feared we would be driven on to Beyrout. 

Picture, on a stony hill overlooking the sea, a 
small town — its houses of limestone and cement, 
with flat roofs, some of them overgrown with grass; 
its streets narrow and winding; and here and there 
glorious orange and lemon orchards, redolent with 
golden fruit; apricot and peach trees bearing deli¬ 
cate pink-tinted blossoms,— and you will see Jaffa, 
or the biblical Joppa, as it is to-day. 

After dinner we went to the house of Simon the 
Tanner, on the sea-shore. From the house-top the 
view of the Mediterranean — its deep blue melting 
into the pale ether overhead — was loveliness itself. 

Early next morning our party left Jaffa on 
horseback for Jerusalem. The road for some dis¬ 
tance was lined with mammoth cacti, orange and 
lemon trees. The Jaffa oranges are delicious, and 
are considered by many the finest in the world. 


272 


OUR FIRST WEEK IN PALESTINE. 


273 


One was shown us that weighed a pound and a half. 
They are not only large, but very juicy, and almost 
seedless. 

At sunset we found ourselves high among the 
Judean hills, while just to our east, in a sheltered 
nook, rose the white tops of our twenty tents with 
the u stars and stripes ” floating proudly above them. 
What prospect could have been more cheering to a 
party of hungry travel-worn pilgrims ? That night 
the wind blew a tempest, and the rain descended in 
torrents. In spite of the guard placed around the 
encampment, an Arab stole into one of the tents, 
took a lady’s dress, and after emptying the pockets 
of everything that was valuable, left the garment on 
the brow of the hill opposite, where it was found 
the next morning, soaked with rain and mud. 

We entered Jerusalem, at the end of our forty 
miles’ ride, by the Jaffa gate. It was windy and 
cold. The Holy City seemed dismal, and Mount 
Olivet was covered with snow; yet it was a beauti¬ 
ful sight, and one not many visitors are permitted 
to see. All Wednesday the snow fell rapidly, till 
by night the feathery coverlet lay two feet deep on 
the ground. Our dragoman said he had not seen 
such a snow-storm in Palestine for years. 

During this weather, a party of twenty-five left 

our hotel for Mar Saba. They encamped one night 

near the Dead Sea, but returned the following 
18 


274 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


morning with such startling stories of their hard¬ 
ships as fairly took our breath away. Some of the 
ladies were thoroughly drenched, and had not been 
dry since leaving Jerusalem. One of them declared 
she had not suffered as much in all her life as during 
that trip. The roads were frightful. The horse of 
one of the guides became maddened by the stinging 
hail, and nearly threw his rider down a steep preci¬ 
pice. But the night in camp was the most terrible 
experience. Some of the tents blew down,— the 
wind howled, Arabs hallooed, and women screamed. 

Many of our travellers were disheartened, and 
turned back to Jaffa. But we determined to per¬ 
severe. At last the sun burst out gloriously, and 
Saturday and Sunday were typical days. How 
fitting to spend a Sabbath on the hill of Zion ! We 
first ascended to the house-top for a bird's-eye view 
of the city, and from thence looked down upon the 
crowded streets, flat-roofed houses, and castellated 
parapets of the modern Jerusalem. A beautiful 
American flag floated from the consulate. 

After dinner we rode out of the city around by 
the pool of Siloam to Mount Olivet, which is not 
approached by slopes of emerald green, covered 
with olive trees, as our imagination had always pict¬ 
ured it. The ground is dry and stony and affords 
little vegetation ; but the effect at a distance on a 
bright day, especially toward sunset, is very beau- 


OUR FIRST WEEK IN PALESTINE . 


275 


tiful. Never shall we forget the view that Sabbath 
afternoon from the tower on the summit of the 
mount. Only half of the party could ascend at a 
time, so while waiting our turn we all joined 
in singing 

“ By cool Siloam’s shady rill.” 

The deep bass tones and the soft soprano blended 
harmoniously, for each one’s heart was in that song. 
Then a call was heard from above, and mounting 
the winding stone staircase, we soon found ourselves 
upon the balcony tower, with all Judea at our feet. 

“ As the mountains are round about Jerusalem” 

— yes, there they were. On our right, Mount Sco¬ 
pus ; on our left, Mount Ophel and the Mount of 
Offense, with gently sloping sides and rounded 
summits. Beyond the shadowed valleys was Jeru¬ 
salem, seated upon Mount Zion. More queenly 
she seemed than we had ever seen her. The 
Mosque of Omar stood just in front. Fair as seemed 
the poise of its graceful dome and the many glisten¬ 
ing colors on its walls, how much fairer must have 
risen the glorious temple of Solomon upon the rocky 
brow of Mount Moriah ! Then slowly we turned 
our eyes from one point of interest to another 
in the city, till each one was readily distinguished 

— the tower of Antonia, terminating the Via Dolo¬ 
rosa , David’s tower upon the extreme south, the pool 
of Bethesda, the Holy Sepulchre, and even the 


276 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


Beautiful Gate, where the lame man was healed. 
Away to the East, like a bit of lapis lazuli , among 
the misty heights of Moab and Gilead, glimmered 
the quiet waters of the Dead Sea. It was miles dis¬ 
tant, yet it seemed as if we could toss a stone into 
its depths. 

The Garden of Gethsemane lies near the valley. 
It covers but a small area, and is surrounded by a 
stone wall. The enclosure contains a small chapel, 
flower-beds and tombs, and several ancient wide- 
spreading olive-trees, under one of which our Lord 
is said to have prayed before His crucifixion. 

The shadows were lengthening on the grassy 
plains as we turned on our homeward way. Lines 
of golden sunlight crowned the liill-tops and fell 
across our path. No sounds were heard save the 
distant lowing of the cattle and the song of the 
skylark in the branches over our heads. So great 
was the peace, the simple beauty of the scene, it 
seemed almost like the twilight before the dawn of 
morning in the New Jerusalem. 

Bethlehem in Judea ! Can we ever again read 
that sweet story of the nativity without recalling 
the spring morning, glad with singing birds and 
blooming flowers, when we wound our way over the 
plain of Repliaim to the spot of our Saviour’s birth ! 

Just after passing outside the city gate, a com¬ 
pany of miserable lepers surrounded us, lifting up 


OUR FIRST WEEK IK PALESTINE. 


277 


their stumps of hands with pitiful cries. The gov¬ 
ernment has allotted them dwellings in a secluded 
valley, but on pleasant days they crawl out upon 
the high-road to beg. 

We rode past long lines of Jewish dwellings. 
Many families live together for the sake of pro¬ 
tection, and each one owns a door and one front 
window. The Sultan gives the poor Jew a home 
for ten years, after which it becomes his own prop¬ 
erty. The Jews living in Jerusalem and its neigh¬ 
borhood are a most pitiable class. Most of them 
are idle and selfish, and subsist on the contribu¬ 
tions of foreign Jews. It is a sorrowful sight to 
witness the poor creatures, old and young, wailing 
outside the temple wall every Friday afternoon in 
all sorts of weather. Their prayer is for the resto¬ 
ration of the Holy City to the Jews. 

On our way to Bethlehem we stopped at Rachel’s 
Tomb, a small, circular, limestone building, within a 
perfect garden of scarlet anemones. We ate our 
lunch in the convent adjoining the Church of the 
Nativity. After visiting the “Manger,” we walked 
out upon the brow of the hill west of the town. 
With the soft breeze fanning our cheeks, and a 
bright carpet of many-colored wild-flowers under 
our feet, our eyes turned dreamily toward the ver¬ 
dant valley below—the very fields in which Ruth 
gleaned, and where, many years later, the wan- 


278 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


dering shepherds first caught the angel-chorus, 
“Peace on Earth.” We may question the genuine¬ 
ness of many of the traditional spots of Bible his¬ 
tory, but are not the “everlasting hills ” the same 
to-day they were eighteen hundred years ago ? 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


TENTING IN THE HOLY LAND. 


/^\UR camp-life was a novelty. We were on 
a thirteen days’ jaunt from Jerusalem to 
Damascus. Our caravan was made up of fifteen 
tourists, fifty horses and mules, two dragomans, 
besides muleteers and dogs. The daily programme 
was about as follows : Precisely at five o’clock the 
camp is aroused by the clang of the “tin-tom,” 
which, analyzed, resolves itself into two pans, a 
bell, and several whistles. Thus cruelly awakened 
from our peaceful slumbers, we rise and prepare 
to dress. But scarcely have operations begun, 
when a dreadful shaking and screaming from with¬ 
out convinces us that the tent is about to descend 
on our heads. 

“Mustapha! Barak! Oh, Mr. Clark ! Do tell 
the men we are not ready.” 

“Hurry up, then; yours is the last tent down.” 

Snatching a few things in our hands, L. and I 
scramble to the door just in time to see the whole 
affair tumble to the ground. 

Breakfast consists of bread, jam, and canned but¬ 
ter, ham and eggs, and coffee. While the “pil- 


279 


280 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


grims ” are busy eating, the muleteers pack the 
baggage. It is marvellous to see how quickly our 
miniature city is reduced to ruins. All the bed¬ 
ding, rugs, tables, tin wash-bowls, pitchers, etc., 
belonging to each tent, are strapped together, and 
one mule carries two of these bundles, which be¬ 
come very heavy in wet weather. The table-china 
is wrapped, piece by piece, in newspapers, and 
packed in chests. 

At seven o’clock we mount and are off. The 
baggage goes, if possible, by a shorter and more 
direct route, in order to arrive at the next camping- 
ground ahead of us. 

These early starts — oh, how delicious! The 
morning air, fresh and cool, fans our cheeks, and 
makes the blood tingle in our veins. The horses, 
too, seem to feel the exhilaration, and step off 
briskly. All nature sparkles with beauty. The 
dew on the grass, the golden sunlight creeping over 
the hill-tops and down the slopes, the shifting shad¬ 
ows in the valleys, and even the long lines of camels 
and meek-looking donkeys that pass us on the road, 
all blend harmoniously in the panorama. Once we 
heard the musical tinkle of a convent bell away up 
the mountain. Our eyes could not discern the ab¬ 
bey, hidden among the rocky steeps, but we recog¬ 
nized the call of the sweet-voiced monitor. 

At midday our train halts in some shady nook, 


THESE EARLY STARTS—OH, HOW DELICIOUS 





























































TENTING IN THE HOLY LAND. 


281 


for lunch. The rugs are spread on the grass, and 
the cold chicken and mutton, hard-boiled eggs, 
“hunks” of bread, cheese, oranges, nuts and rai¬ 
sins, seem very tempting after a long ride of four 
or five hours. We generally rest about two hours, 
and after the lunch has been cleared away, amuse 
ourselves napping, reading, writing, or culling the 
wild-flowers, which carpet the earth everywhere, 
even away up the mountain-sides, rocky and barren, 
where the scarlet anemones —the “lilies” of the 
Bible — are almost the only bright things the eye 
rests upon. 

Toward five o’clock our day’s journey draws to a 
close. At 6ach turn of the road, we eagerly scan 
the outstretching meadow-lands, till our eyes catch 
sight of the familiar cluster of snowy tents, and we 
exclaim exultantly, “Almost home ! ” 

Our cook was an excellent fellow, and could get 
up capital dinners on very short notice. He had 
matters arranged rather conveniently, too. His 
stove was an oblong iron box, heated with a bed of 
charcoal; and while the meats were roasting in the 
oven, the big pots and kettles bubbled merrily over 
the glowing coals. Nor was there any “ slop about 
the victuals,” as our dragoman expressed it. The 
soup was boiled down from a juicy piece of mutton, 
— for we investigated matters, and knew just how 
it was done. 


282 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


Let them laugh who will, at suggestions of 
danger in a trip through Palestine ; they will tell a 
different story after some prowling Arab has robbed 
them. The night we camped by the “B-obber’s 
fountain,” a day’s ride from Jacob’s well, will prob¬ 
ably not be forgotten by any one of our party. 

“This is a bad place,” said Mr. Clark, our drago¬ 
man, shaking his head ominously. “I shall stand 
guard myself with the muleteers, to-night.” 

Now, we knew Mr. Clark was a discreet man, 
who would not have made such a statement unless 
there had been some grounds for it. Still, no real 
danger was expected; and after taking the usual 
precautions, we lay down peacefully tb rest. But 
scarcely had our heads touched the pillow, when 
the sharp sound of a pistol was heard. In a mo¬ 
ment the camp was all excitement, and amid the 
hoarse cries we caught the words : “Hill has been 
robbed ! Thief gone ! ! ” 

The story was soon told. Mr. Hill, having 
hung his clothes on the pole in the middle of the 
tent — the safest place, as he supposed,— went to 
bed and to sleep. But not later than half-past nine 
o’clock, an Arab crept stealthily into our camp, cut 
the canvas at the rear of the tent, brushed by the 
head of the cot, took clothes, money, and watch, 
besides a letter of credit, and made his escape just 


TENTING IN THE IIOLY LAND . 


283 


as Mr. Hill awoke. Several shots were fired, but 
to no effect. 

A gentleman of our party, well-armed, crept 
down to a cave, half-a-mile distant from the camp, 
where he lay in wait nearly an hour for the return 
of the robber. Ho further disturbance, however, 
occurred, but our slumbers were somewhat broken. 

The following night, we camped near Sychar, a 
place still more notorious for its thieves than the 
Robbers’ Fountain. Five Arab soldiers from the 
town were secured as guards ; and we were urged 
to take every precaution. And this we did — in¬ 
deed, nearly one-half the night was spent in securing 
our effects, and the other half in untying them ready 
for use. First, our two cots were put close together 
in the middle of the tent, leaving just enough space 
between them and the pole for the satchels, which 
were strapped to the pole and then to the beds, 
after the little money they contained had been taken 
out and slipped in the under side of the pillow¬ 
cases. Each article of clothing was carefully tied to 
the beds, and the whole covered with a rubber 
‘‘waterproof.” Two umbrellas were then opened, 
and placed, one at the head and the other at the 
foot of the beds ; while half-a-dozen water-pitchers 
were distributed around the sides, so that in case 
any one entered, the pitchers would be sure to be 
overturned. One gentleman, after having fastened 


284 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


his baggage to the pole, established communication 
between it and his night-cap by means of a string, 
in such a manner that the slightest jerk would 
awaken him. After such elaborate preparations, it 
was almost disappointing that no burglary was at¬ 
tempted that night. 

During all of the first week after leaving Jerusa¬ 
lem, we enjoyed unclouded sunshine. The weather 
was mild — sometimes uncomfortably warm in the 
middle of the day, but balmy and spring-like. The 
gentlemen wore on their heads the Arabic kaffiyeh 
— a large scarf, or colored cotton handkerchief, 
caught with a band, and left streaming in the back. 
The ladies donned straw hats and ample veils. 

The roads were so bad that the bravest among 
us would have hesitated if they had known what 
awaited them before undertaking the journey. 
There were hills to descend that were masses of 
loose boulders and polished table-rock; steeps to 
ascend, precipices to avoid, and rushing brooks to 
ford. Sometimes a mule would lose his footing 
and be swamped in the torrent. But there was 
little damage done — unless, perchance, he was 
carrying the luncheon. Our Arabian horses could 
pick their way like cats over all sorts of break-neck 
places. 

Our first day led us down from Jerusalem to 
Jericho. Passing the Damascus gate and skirting 


TENTING IN THE HOLY LAND. 


285 


the Mount of Olives, we soon came out on the direct 
road to Bethany. Again and again our eyes were 
strained for a last view of the Holy City. How fair 
she seemed that morning, set in a basin of gently- 
sloping hills, with the white walls and domes and 
minarets glorified in the blaze of the morning sun ! 

At noon we lunched on the site of the u Samari¬ 
tan’s inn.'’ It is a wild spot, a perfect wilderness 
of mighty rocks, deep gorges, and precipitous 
mountain-sides. In the afternoon our road de¬ 
scended in a winding course by the side of the 
brook Cherith, where Elijah was fed by the ravens. 
Then we realized the truth of the Bible expression, 
u going down to Jericho” ; for before this our path 
had been up hill, as well as in a north-easterly 
direction. 

Toward sunset, the blue waters of the Dead Sea, 
with the mountains of Moab and Gilead in the back¬ 
ground, came into view. Our tents were pitched on 
the site of ancient Jericho, a grassy plain, several 
miles west of the Jordan. Perhaps it was because 
it was a new experience, and our spirits were high, 
but it seemed to us one of the loveliest spots in the 
world. Eastward lay the valley of the Jordan, ex¬ 
tending northward as far as the eye could reach, 
and southward to the sea. Beyond rose the pale 
purple hills, with Pisgah and Nebo in the distance, 
reaching to the clouds. A little to our right was 


•286 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


the place where the children of Israel crossed into 
Canaan ; and ancient Gilgal, where they encamped 
before Jericho, now a poor mud village scarcely a 
stone’s-throw away. In the grassy meadows strewn 
with wild-flowers, not a vestige remains of the 
mighty walls that fell down at the sound of Joshua’s 
trumpet. Behind us stretched long ranges of lime¬ 
stone hills, burnished with red and gold, and among 
them the sharp-peaked “Mount of Temptation.” 
In the same plain, but farther to the south, was 
pointed out the site of the modern Jericho — the 
one that flourished in Christ’s time. The only ves¬ 
tige of it to be seen to-day is a stone well, said to be 
the one in which Herod drowned his nephew, that 
he might not succeed to the throne. 

The next day we visited the shore of the Dead 
Sea and bathed in its tepid waters. Writers dwell 
much on the desolateness of its shores, and the 
utter gloom which pervades the entire vicinity; but 
the impression we brought away was far different. 
The mountains that rise on every side, and slope 
east and west nearly to the water’s edge, are in¬ 
deed barren, but are veiled by soft clouds of tinted 
mist. The waters of the lake itself, blue, clear, 
and rippling, give no clue to the terrible secret 
concealed in their motionless depths. Quantities of 
saltpetre are found all along the shore, and one 


TENTING IN THE HOLY LAND. 


287 


lifeless crab was discovered, although it is certain 
no fish can exist in the Dead Sea. 

The size of the Jordan disappointed us. It is 
a small and turbulent stream, and was so swollen 
we could not ford it, as had been our intention. 

Six days sped by on golden wings, amidst scenes 
hallowed by Bible associations. Late one after¬ 
noon we stood in the sunset glow by Jacob’s Well. 
It is in a grassy plain, strewn with the never-failing 
“lilies.” To the north are mounts Ebal and Geri- 
zim, while near by, on a gently-sloping hill, stands 
a small village, said to be the u Salem” of Melchiz- 
edek. A wall of loose stones surrounds the well. 
We peered over the curb, far down into the black 
depths below. A jug was lowered and drawn up 
filled with water — not clear and pure, as we 
had hoped, but muddy and disagreeable to the 
taste. 

Riding between the mountains of Blessing and 
Cursing, we entered the lovely vale of Shechem. 
On one side is an old Moslem cemetery, with its 
limestone mounds, and on the other the modern 
Nablous, surrounded by olive trees, cacti, and run¬ 
ning streams. This town is one of the most ori¬ 
ental in Palestine. Many of its passage-ways are 
under covered arches of stone, not admitting a 
ray of light. Through one of the streets flows a 
rapid brook, bridged at intervals by stone crossings 


288 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


so slippery that I wondered the pretty, dark-eyed 
children who thronged the place did not fall into 
the water. 

We there visited a Samaritan monastery, and 
were shown a copy of the Pentateuch which the old 
priest solemnly assured us was 3,472 years old, and 
was written by one of the great grandsons of Aaron. 
He afterward allowed us to stand at the door and 
listen to the service within the little chapel. The 
only worshippers were men and boys, who looked 
very much like millers, in their clean white cotton 
gowns and turbans. On entering the room they 
first knelt, then stood and began to pray in a loud 
voice, the chorus swelling more boisterously with 
each new arrival. 

But of all the lovely spots we had seen in Pales¬ 
tine, the plain of Esdraelon, or u Megiddo ” as it is 
called in the Bible, seemed the fairest. How its 
verdant fields and luxuriant foliage contrasted with 
the barren hills of Benjamin ! From the mound on 
which stood Ahab’s palace, we looked down upon 
the valley of Jezreel. Ho wonder Jezebel coveted 
Naboth’s vineyard — a little paradise, as it must 
have been. On the opposite height is the site of 
Shunein, where Elisha restored to life the son of 
the Shun am mite woman; and it was through this 
valley Jehu “ rode furiously.” Below stands Gid¬ 
eon’s fountain, and on a hillock at the left, Deborah 


TENTING IN THE HOLY LAND. 


289 


uttered her song of triumph. On the north, east, 
and west, the hills roll away in soft green billows, 
while Carmel, Tabor, and Little Hermon, lift their 
shadowy forms against the bright Syrian sky. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


GENNESARET. 


UR best view of Xazareth was obtained the 
day before we reached the city, when de¬ 



scending into the valley from the Mount of Precipi¬ 


tation. Then it appeared picturesque and beautiful 
—with Tabor and Carmel rolling away on the east 
and the west, and the warm sunset glow lighting up 
its white stone walls hemmed in by hedges of mam¬ 
moth cacti and olive trees. We spent a Sabbath in 
Uazareth, camping at the foot of the hill on which 
the city is built, and on Monday morning resumed 
our wanderings. Passing Cana of Galilee, with a 
hurried glimpse of the forlorn Greek chapel—said 
to stand on the site of the house where the marriage 
supper was given, and containing the original (?) 
stone water-pots—-we soon came under the shadow 
of the Mount of Beatitudes, which slopes gradually 

down to the Sea of Galilee. The skv had been 

«/ 

overcast all day, but toward evening the clouds 
broke away and shed a silvery light over land and 
water. 

• Far up on the mountain, many miles from its 
shores, our eyes first spied this lovely lake. Pear- 


290 


GENNESARET. 


291 


like in shape, it measures fourteen miles from north 
to south, and seven from east to west at its broad¬ 
est point. The shadowy hills of Gilead rear their 
lofty heads on the eastern side. There is a strange 
fascination about u the other side” of Gennesaret, 
once so alive with flourishing towns—now desolate, 
and haunted only by the dark-eyed hot-blooded 
Bedouin. The western banks are rich and verdant. 
The mountains stretch away toward the Occident, 
leaving at their base a winding valley, washed by the 
waters of the lake. The beach is sandy, and cov¬ 
ered with quantities of pretty shells, with which we 
filled our pockets. 

The town of Tiberias, like most of the villages of 
Palestine, consists of mud houses, dirty alleys, and 
pretty children. A portion of the walls and towers 
of the ancient city, overgrown with moss and vines, 
is yet standing. We camped on a grassy plain 
near Tiberias, and only a few rods from the Hot 
Springs. Our dragoman said if a railroad is ever 
built in Palestine he means to make his fortune by 
erecting a hotel near these Springs. 

Far into the evening, we sat before our tent 
doors and looked out upon the dark lull-girt waters, 
illumined by so many precious memories of our 
Saviour’s life. Capernaum, Chorazin, Bethsaida 
and Magdala were all visited,—but not by water, for 
on Tuesday the wind blew a perfect hurricane, and 


292 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


the sea of Galilee, that had lain at our feet the day 
before like a crystal sheet, changed during the night 
into an ocean of foam. Nothing remains of these 
proud cities but a few mounds and scattered ruins. 
Scarcely a habitation is found anywhere along the 
coast, although the soil is fertile and the situation 
charming. 

A stormy day in Palestine is dreary enough. 
We had our trial on Thursday, going from the 
Waters of Merom to Caesarea Philippi. The night 
before, scarcely anyone slept. Our tents were 
pitched on a bit of swampy ground near a tribe 
of ugly-looking Bedouins. Coming into camp, in 
broad daylight, one of these vagrants had snatched 

an umbrella out of the hands of Mr. B.-, a 

strong man, and a soldier in the Indian mutiny. 
Our dragoman went to the sheik, and by means 
of threats recovered the stolen property. The 
audacity of the theft startled us all. One gentle¬ 
man declared he would never travel through this 
country again, and wished we had more fire-arms. 
‘‘Why,” said he, “if these savages should conspire 
to murder us, there would be no help for it.” 
Another gentleman told the story of a company of 
scientists who, six months before, had visited Mount 
Sinai with money to buy camels. After being 
robbed by the Bedouins, they were given the choice 
of jumping down a frightful precipice, or being shot. 



















































GENNESARET. 


293 


All were killed, and only a few lines, written on the 
fly-leaf of a volume of Byron’s poems, were found 
afterward to tell their friends the sad story. Was 
such to be our fate before morning? In no very 
tranquil frame of mind we went to bed, fully dressed, 
and prepared for the worst. At three o’clock four 
or five shots were fired in camp, and all supposed 
the fatal hour had come — but it proved to be a 
false alarm. 

The next morning, tired and cold, we mounted 
in a drenching rain. The roads were swampy, and 
in many places our horses sank into the mud to their 
knees. It rained, it blew, it hailed. Picture us on 
our gallant steeds, with their tails turned to the 
stinging hail — for they could not be made to face 
it — clad in water-proof from head to foot, with 
little streams of water trickling down over our faces 
and into our necks, shivering with the cold, and 
ranged in a straggling line along the road, dolefully 
singing u Auld Lang Syne ” ! 

But it might have been worse, for there were 
moments of sunshine between the showers which 
brought warmth to our numbed fingers and cheer 
to our hearts. The road during the early morning 
was uninteresting. We passed only Bedouin vil¬ 
lages, and there were many of them. They con¬ 
sisted simply of a cluster of tents, built of papyrus 
reeds, which grew plentifully in the neighboring 


294 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


streams. Sometimes a sheet of canvas was sus¬ 
pended above the reedy roof as an additional protec¬ 
tion against wind and rain. The Bedouin's cattle, 
sheep and goats, were left to graze on the meadow- 
land about his tent. 

At last we spied, to the north, a grassy hillock, 
just under the shadow of the Anti-Lebanon range. 
This was the site of ancient Dan, the northern 
boundary of Palestine; and just by it was a lovely 
spring, like a tiny lake, clear as crystal. This 
spring forms one of the principal sources of the 
Jordan, whose turbulent waters we had crossed, not 
long before, on an old Roman bridge. Our road for 
some distance lay through a park-like country, grown 
with evergreen, oak, and olive trees. Some of the 
shrubbery wore pale-yellow, red, and brown tints, 
that contrasted prettily with the bright green grass. 

Csesarea Philippi of the Bible, or “Banias” 
as it is called, lies at the foot of Mount Hermon. 
Its situation is beautiful. Standing on the slope 
of the hill, with the picturesque old castle guard¬ 
ing a sharp peak to the right, whose snowy head 
towers on high, it looks down upon bubbling 
streams, foaming cascades, and mossy ruins. When 
the Greeks lived here, they built rock temples to 
Pan. Many of these caves are still seen in the cliffs, 
although in some places great pieces of rock have 
fallen down and hidden them from view. 


GENNESARET. 


295 


That night we slept in the sheik's house on ac¬ 
count of the wet weather. The sheik was a very 
rich man, and very kind. The ladies were invited 
to spend the afternoon in his harem, and a merry 
time we had. Some of the children were little 
beauties, with large brilliant eyes and soft skins. 
The sitting-room was quite cheerful. Gay rugs were 
spread over the clean matting, a wood-fire burned in 
the fireplace, and in the corner was a tall pile of 
nice warm blankets and bed-quilts, reaching almost 
to the ceiling. We all sat on the floor, and made 
ourselves as agreeable as possible to our admiring 
audience — singing songs, playing little games, and 
talking volumes with our fingers. Dinner was served 
about six o’clock, and consisted of an immense plat¬ 
ter of cooked rice, four soup-dishes of boiled chicken, 
and sour milk. These were placed on a round 
wooden stand, raised only a few inches from the 
floor. Before sitting down, several rolls of some¬ 
thing brown and thin were laid on the floor around 
the stand. Some of us supposed these were mats 
to sit upon ; others thought they were intended for 
napkins ; but lo, what should they prove to be but 
bread !— and a very necessary article it was, for it 
served the purpose of knife, fork, and spoon. The 
hostess, tearing off a large piece, dipped it first in 
the gravy and then into the rice — motioning us to 
follow her example, which we endeavored to do, 


296 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


though our awkward efforts called forth a hearty 
burst of laughter from our Arab friends. 

The next day we had eight hours of hard riding ; 
but it was under a cloudless sky, and over Mount 
ITermon. Nature was robed in her fairest colors, 
and radiant with smiles. Higher our straggling 
train wound up the mountain path, till the verdure 
of summer lay in the valley below us, and patches 
of melting snow decked the cold hard ground we 
were treading. Loftier, steeper, colder,—and at 
last the palace of the winter-king was gained. 
Above was the blue sky, but below and around was 
the dazzling snow. The “mountain sheik,” as the 
Arabs appropriately style Mount Hermon, wrapped 
in his ermine mantle, and rearing his noble head 
high toward heaven, gazed placidly out upon the 
enchanting prospect, stretching away north, south, 
east, and west. 

On we toiled — often obliged to dismount and 
wade through snow-drifts several feet in depth — 
now battling with a fierce storm that almost bore 
horse and rider away in its furious grasp, then tread¬ 
ing thin cakes of ice that would sometimes break 
and precipitate an unfortunate one into a wintry 
bath, from which he was rescued with difficulty. 
But in spite of the discomforts, it was a grand 
experience. We were five thousand feet above the 
Mediterranean; yet the highest peak of Mount 


GENNESARET. 


297 


Hermon rose five thousand more over our heads. 
At last the mountain ridge was crossed, and from 
the northern brow we looked down into the broad 
plain, reaching away to Damascus. 

“Now I begin to breathe more easily,” said our 
dragoman, confidentially, to a member of the party. 
4 ‘You have no idea what a fright I have had. We 
lost our path in the snow, and sometimes have been 
walking on the tops of stone fences, and in many 
dangerous places. I feared an accident every 
minute.” 

We camped that night near a little village, said 
to have once contained the tomb of Nimrod, and 
situated forty-five hundred feet above the sea level. 
It was bitterly cold. The next morning our carpets 
and tents were stiff with frost, and the water in our 
wash-basins was coated with ice. 

The road between this point and Damascus was 
in pleasant contrast with the rugged paths over 
which our horses had picked their way during the 
last two weeks. Suddenly some one cried out: 

“A carriage ! a carriage ! ” 

Every eye was turned in the direction indicated, 
and sure enough, there it was, rolling rapidly over 
the hard ground., A cry of delight arose, and we 
watched until it had vanished to a mere speck in 
the distance. 

In the fields about us we saw farmers breaking 


298 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


up the soil with ploughs like those used in our 
Saviour’s time, and urging on lazy oxen with the 
ancient iron-tipped goad. And now at last we 
reached the environs of Damascus, rode by its 
blooming gardens, and before another sun had set 
were safely sheltered within its friendly walls. 


CHAPTEK XXIX. 


“THE EYE OF THE EAST.” 


T'AAMASCUS is thoroughly oriental. Its situ- 
ation is charming, and its street life fasci¬ 
nating. We had a bird’s-eye view of the city from 
a spur of the Anti-Lebanon range, from which 
Mahomet first looked down upon it in the plain 
below, with its minarets and domes peeping above 
the groves of fruit trees, and the river Abana wind¬ 
ing like a silver thread amid the green, and ex¬ 
claimed: “Man can have but one Paradise; mine 
is above.” We saw Damascus again from the 
tower of the great Mosque, and there looked down 
upon an expanse of flat-roofed mansions and 
warehouses, capped with innumerable miniature 
domes — “the street called Straight,” which runs 
north and south in a not very direct line, and the 
old stone citadel, now used as a prison, in whose 
court the Christians were massacred twenty years 
ago. 

The Hotel Dimitri, where we stayed, was built 
by a wealthy Mohammedan for his own use, and is 
a good specimen of oriental houses. Entering from 
a side street, through a heavy portal painted green, 

299 


300 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


and so low that we had to stoop to go through it, 
we found ourselves in a spacious open court. This 
was paved with marble, and ornamented with a 
fountain in the centre. Several large fruit-laden 
orange trees were growing out of small openings in 
the floor. A staircase led to galleries which wound 
away in various directions like a labyrinth. The in¬ 
side walls of the court were painted with gay stripes 
of red, white, and blue, sometimes finished off with 
a bunch of flowers. The rooms had no connection 
with each other, but all opened into the court, so 
that while we were at dinner all the dishes were 
handed from the kitchen into the court, and then 
through the window of the dining-room to the 
waiter inside. 

The salon was especially curious. It was divided 
into three parts. The door opened into the middle 
division, which had a marble pavement, and was 
ornamented with a fountain, and flowering plants. 
On each side was a slightly raised platform, carpeted 
with rugs, and furnished with divans, tables, and 
handsome brazen scaldinos containing a small pan 
of red coals. This was the only fire the house 
afforded, although it is often very cold in Damascus. 

But notwithstanding these charming interiors, 
the out-door life interested us most. Near our hotel 
was a square, called the “ Horse-market, ’’ where 
horses and donkeys were brought early every morn- 


“ THE EYE OF THE EAST.” 


301 


ing for sale. The place seemed a rendezvous for 
people of all ages and classes. Fine-looking Turks, 
in embroidered costumes, rode by on their gaily 
caparisoned steeds ; women and girls, in blazing silk 
and cotton gowns, peered at us through their “dolly- 
varden” veils; peddlers assailed us with their wares; 
beggars knelt at our feet; and dogs, the scavengers 
of the city, lurked in every corner. From this 
square, streets branch off in all directions — crooked, 
narrow, without side-walks, and paved with irregular 
cobble-stones that make walking in wet weather 
hazardous. 

The bazaars of Damascus are far-famed — and no 
wonder, for they offer all sorts of tempting articles, 
lovely silk shawls and scarfs, soft cashmere dressing- 
gowns, fur-lined coats, embroidered slippers, Persian 
table-covers, and Turkish rugs. There is no end to 
the variety of useless but charming knick-knacks, 
such as amber pipes, ornaments in filagree-work, 
curious silver and gold coins, exquisite articles in¬ 
laid with mother-of-pearl, rare old china, and 
hammered brass-ware. How the money slips out 
of one’s pockets! Of course, no one intends to 
buy much, but there is no harm in “just inquiring 
the price of this and that”; and — well, once in¬ 
veigled into the trap, there is no getting out without 
paying for it. This shopping consumes an amazing 
amount of time, too, owing to the peculiar nature of 


302 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE . 


the Turk. He never asks what he expects to get, 
and seldom gets what he asks, simply because it is 
too much. Frequently, on demanding the price of 
an article, the reply is: “M y asking price is five 
dollars, but you may have it for four.” If you turn 
away, the vender will run after you, crying, “What 
will you give ? What will you give ? ” and a bargain 
may often be made at a third or fourth of the original 
price, with evident satisfaction to both buyer and 
seller. The bazaars line the streets on each side — 
the street being often roofed over, with openings at 
regular intervals to admit the light and air. They 
are tiny stores of mud or wood, with three closed 
sides, and an open front. The Turkish shop-keeper 
sits with his legs crossed under him on the matting, 
smoking his pipe and waiting for customers. How 
he manages to stow away such a quantity of goods 
in so small a space is a puzzle. His supplies seem 
inexhaustible. 

The street-life here is especially interesting, be¬ 
cause the “ inside working of things ” is so manifest. 
The shoemaker sits in his doorway, and cuts, greases, 
and stitches the gay red and yellow morocco into 
slippers and sandals ; the furnisher quilts his com¬ 
forter, the carpenter planes, the weaver weaves, and 
the barber shaves,— ail in full sight of the passers- 
by. The inlaid work, so noted in Damascus, was 
seen in every stage of progress, from the time the 


“ THE EYE OF THE EAST.” 


303 


mother-of-pearl was cut from the mussel-shell, to the 
freshly-polished bric-a-brac all ready for sale. We 
saw quantities of cream pastry and strange-looking 
edibles baked in enormous round tin pans and sold 
on the street corners. Some of these dainties 
looked really tempting, and did not taste at all 
unpleasant. A favorite dish with the Damascenes 
is a kind of cream made of sour milk and sugar 
and encrusted with sliced cocoanut. It is served 
with a rich syrup, in china tea-cups, and costs a 
piastre (five cents) a cup. The confectionery is ex¬ 
traordinary, both in quantity and quality. Most of 
it is made in large round cakes, like cheeses, and 
the stranger would never dream what it is from 
looking at it. We saw men moulding great chunks 
of it on the street, while chatting busily with their 
neighbors. Venders with glass jugs full of lemonade, 
cooled with snow from Lebanon, confronted us at 
every turn. Often, if anything novel attracted our 
attention, we would walk straight into the shops, with¬ 
out ceremony, and there watch the proceedings till our 
curiosity was satisfied. The owners never made any 
objection, but chuckled quietly to themselves, and 
offered us tit-bits to taste. In this way we were ini¬ 
tiated into the art of oriental bread-making. The 
stove was a huge stone oven, with a blazing coal fire 
in the bottom. The baker tore off a piece of dough, 
patted it a minute with his hands, then clapped it 


304 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


upon a round iron mould, flattened it broad and tbin 
to the shape of the mould, then deftly tossed the 
wafer against the inner roof or side of the oven, 
where it stuck until done. The fine strings of mac¬ 
aroni, or noodles, used in soups, are quickly made. 
The cook, in a white cap and colored belt, presides 
over a large thin copper griddle, heated over a bed 
of hot coals. Dipping a tin cup with perforated 
bottom into the batter, he slowly carries it around 
and over the heated copper pan, beginning with the 
outer rim and finishing in the centre, by which time 
the macaroni is cooked, and is thrown quickly aside 
to make room for another batch. A curious custom 
is that of frying over the coals small bits of meat, 
usually mutton, strung on iron spikes. The savory 
smell, as we passed by, made us sniff the air more 
than once with hungry longings. 

The houses in Damascus are built of mud mixed 
with straw or gravel. The second story usually 
projects over the street — a peculiarity of Eastern 
architecture ; and as these thoroughfares are very 
narrow, the ladies in the harems concealed behind 
the lattice window-screens can chat with their neigh¬ 
bors across the way without the least trouble. Often 
a portion of the second story projects at such an 
angle it must be propped with timbers under¬ 
neath, and has an appearance of great insecurity. 
One has no idea of the luxury and magnificence 


“ THE EYE OF THE EAST” 


305 


concealed behind these mud walls. The houses 
of Judas and Ananias, both modern in appear¬ 
ance, were pointed out in “the street called 
Straight,” and the place was shown inside the wall 
where Saul was let down by night in a basket. On 
the site of the house of Naaman the leper, stands a 
leper hospital. 

Just outside the city walls we saw a herd of a 
hundred or more camels belonging to a caravan of 
four thousand, just from Bagdad. It was a novel 
sight, even this small company on the move, march¬ 
ing so regularly together, conducted by a single 
camel that acted as leader. At night the Bedouins 
feed each camel three pounds of meal mixed with 
water and made into a ball, and this is all they 
receive while crossing the desert. 

The ride to Baalbec led us through deep gorges, 
with rocky heights on either side, past rushing 
streams swollen by recent rains, over sunny plains 
hemmed in by frosted peaks, and into sheltered 
valleys where the shadows fell with wondrous vari¬ 
ety of form, delicacy of hue, and beauty of effect. 
It was just at sunset — the close of a perfect day — 
when we rode into Baalbec. The Lebanon moun¬ 
tains were on our left, and the Anti-Lebanon on our 
right. Both were covered with snow; while the dale 
below, like a mossy carpet, was as green and fresh 

as if just watered by an April shower. On the north 
20 


306 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


lay the ruins, while proudly against the western sky 
rose the six peerless columns in the temple of Jupi¬ 
ter, round which played a mellow sunset faintly 
revealing in the openings the fair hills of snowy 
Lebanon. 

Our tents were pitched right among the ruins, in 
the court of the great temple. We wandered over 
the grounds under the light of a full moon, and the 
next day picked our way through the mud, after a 
drenching shower; but nothing could dampen our 
enthusiasm amid such surroundings. These mas¬ 
sive piles, rendered still more impressive by the 
mystery that hangs over their origin, vie in in¬ 
terest even with the ruins of Egypt and Home, not¬ 
withstanding the antiquity of the one and the glory 
of the other. The Temple of the Sun is still 
in fair preservation, though badly shattered by 
earthquakes. Its mammoth monoliths, finely- 
carved friezes, cornices, ceilings, and capitals, and 
especially the front portal, with its exquisite work¬ 
manship in flowers, fruits, and wares, surpassed 
anything we had seen. The ruins of Baalbec are 
noted for the three great stones of fabulous dimen¬ 
sions ; but the giant of giants still lies in the quarry, 
having never been wholly detached from the living 
rock. We rode around it on horseback, and felt our 
insignificance beside the monster, which measured 


“ THE EYE OF THE EAST” 


307 


sixty-nine feet in length, seventeen in width, and 
fourteen in depth. 

At last over Lebanon to Beyrout!—though not 
by the way of the forest of cedars, for it was far too 
early in the season for such a trip. It was a cold 
ride; but the road was the fine macadamized dili¬ 
gence road built by the French between Damascus 
and Beyrout. After entering Syria, we could not 
help noticing the air of thrift which marks the 
country and makes it very different from poverty- 
stricken Palestine. The land is well tilled, the fields 
fenced off, generally with mud walls protected on 
the top by a layer of brushwood to prevent their 
being washed away by the rains. Fruit trees are 
cultivated, and the houses are snug. There was 
even a change in the people themselves ; they not 
only dressed better, but seemed more intelligent, 
and had features of a finer type. 

Soon after passing our highest point on Lebanon, 
where the road had been cut through the snow to 
the depth of ten feet or more, Beyrout appeared, far 
down in the valley, on the shores of the blue Medi¬ 
terranean. Several hours later, our party entered 
this aristocratic European town, and drew up before 
the Bellevue Hotel — as sunburned and travel-worn 
a set of pilgrims as one would care to see. 


CHAPTER XXX. 


THE GOLDEN HORN. 


O NE morning we woke to find ourselves in fairy¬ 
land. Three days before, at sunset, with the 
reddened heights of snowy Lebanon gleaming above 
us, we had left Beyrout, and sailed out among the 
islands of the Archipelago. Rhodes, Cos, My- 
tilene, we touched and passed, making a longer 
stop at Cyprus. The scattered and dirty little sea¬ 
port town of Larnaca, chiefly interesting through 
Cesnola’s fame, has lost nearly all its pleasant 
marks of Orientalism since it came under English 
rule. The island is very picturesque from the water, 
with its long line of misty blue hills banding the 
horizon, and its low sandy beach girt with white 
houses and slender minarets. We shall remem¬ 
ber Smyrna for our interesting ride to the hill¬ 
top overlooking the city. Donkeys were legion, but 
not a side-saddle could be procured. Yet we would 
not be defeated, so, climbing to our seats, we grasped 
in one hand the shaky rope-halter, and with the 
other the ragged collar of the donkey-boy who ran 
by our side and helped to preserve our equilibrium. 
But the view from the summit was an ample reward. 


308 


THE GOLDEN HORN. 


309 


All Smyrna lay at our feet, its narrow and busy 
little streets looking like mere threads winding amid 
the gay plateau of flaring tiled roofs, while farther 
away shone the beautiful waters of the harbor over¬ 
shadowed by the snow-shrouded heights of Tantalus 
and Olympus. All around us, on the hill-top, lay 
the ruins of the Stadium, Acropolis, and temples, 
the crown of the ancient city. Near by was the 
tomb of Poly carp—a plastered mound in a small 
enclosure. From the branches of the trees and 
shrubs surrounding it hung bits of rags and colored 
silk, the offerings of pilgrim devotees. 

Early the following morning our vessel passed the 
site of ancient Troy ; then, a little later, we entered 
the Dardanelles, and all day long wound between 
their sloping, slightly-wooded shores. All the pas¬ 
sengers were gathered on deck. The light awning 
was spread overhead, sea-chairs were rolled out and 
set in the cosiest nooks, and shawls and blankets 
placed over the loose coils of rope at the stern. 
With a changing panorama of beautiful scenes to 
rest our eyes upon, white sea-gulls sweeping by 
above us, and the turquoise blue below, we idly 
sung :— 

“ No more — no more — 

The worldly shore 
Upbraids us with its loud uproar! 

With dreamful eyes 
My spirit lies 

Under the walls of Paradise.” 


310 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


About half way up the Strait we came to the 
place where Xerxes crossed with his army into 
Greece. Near it is the modern town of Dardanella,. 
interesting for the curious pottery it manufactures. 
Toward evening the Dardanelles widened into the 
Sea of Marmora. All night we were crossing its 
waters, and next morning awoke — in the Harbor of 
Constantinople. 

Dazzling and fairv-like was the scene that met 
our eyes as we hurried on deck. It was still early — 
only six o'clock. The sun was hidden behind the 
Bithynian hills, but his beams — pink, yellow, radi¬ 
ant— shot upward and illumined earth and sky. 
Everything was wrapped in mist. Land and sea 
were veiled behind it; but out of this curtain of 
gauze, mirage-like, rose the heads of dark cypresses, 
minarets, domes, glistening like gems as they were 
touched by the rays of the morning sun. Gradually 
the mist vanished and the perfect picture lay before 
us. Stamboul, with the regal St. Sophia rising out 
of mournful cypresses, Pera, Galata and its storied 
tower, the Golden Horn and far-reaching Bosphorus, 
Scutari in dress of emerald, Chalcedon, and the 
hills of Bithynia stretching away to the great sea. 

How the waters of the harbor started into life 
about us! Busy little steamers hurried hither and 
thither among the high-masted ships. Slender 
caiques shot across their wake. There was the 


THE GOLDEN HORN. 


311 


Greek boatman in his fustanella — how handsome 
he looked !—and the proud Turk, in showy uniform, 
pacing the deck of the ominous man-of-war ; while 
all along the shores were busy crowds hastening to 
and fro. 

Just beside us stood an Englishman, who, twenty- 
eight years before, had been here as a soldier in the 
war of the Indian mutiny. 

“What a pity,” he said musingly, “that all 
these stiff rows of warehouses should have taken the 
place of the many-colored overhanging structures 
that once made these shores so picturesque! ” 

While we were talking, there was a noise from 
the rabble below. The officers were marking the 
baggage and giving it to the men to take away. 
Then the boats were sent out for us. A Turk, in 
blue uniform and fez, helped us to our seats. The 
brawny-armed boatmen lifted the oars, and away 
over the teeming waters we glided to the shore. 

X 

Pera is the European quarter of the city. Here 
are the hotels, banks, consulates, and the best shops. 
Behind the polished sheets of plate glass hung tempt¬ 
ing displays of French and English goods. Clerks 
from London and Paris smiled blandly at us from 
behind the counters, and foreign equipages dashed 
along the busy, well-paved street. Everything was 
in striking contrast with the crooked by-ways of 
Stamboul. Indeed, but for the glimpses of Orient- 


312 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE . 


alism in the passers-by, and the packs of lazy dogs 
that stretched themselves out to sleep under our 
feet, we could scarcely have believed we were in the 
Levant at all. In the hotel, airy and European, 
there were pleasant marks of Eastern luxury in the 
rich folds of Turkish drapery, the long divans, the 
silk-curtained sedan-chair in a corner of the hall, 
and the bazaar-table with its store of dainty many- 
colored bric-a-brac. 

Constantinople is built on the gentle slopes of 
the hills enclosing the harbor, though the suburbs 
extend far inland and along the shores of the Bos¬ 
phorus to the Black Sea. The arms of the Bospho¬ 
rus and Golden Horn intersect the mainland with 
picturesque effect, and across the deep-flowing waters 
of the Golden Horn are two bridges of boats con¬ 
necting the different parts of the city. One of these 
bridges is old and rotten, and has dangerous-look¬ 
ing crevices between the planks. How it endures 
the wear and tear of so much traffic, is a mys¬ 
tery; for over it all day long a busy and rest¬ 
less throng of teams and foot-passengers surges 
to and fro. It was a fascinating scene. By the en¬ 
trance at either end stood the toll-men, enjoying a 
lively trade. Presently came a portly Turk in a sedan- 
chair, peeping complacently out from behind the 
silken curtains at the less-favored pedestrians about 
him. This is not an uncomfortable way of travelling, 


THE GOLDEN HORN. 


313 


as L. and I found, when, one morning, we determined 
to take a trial-trip by the sedan line. The chair, 
gay in pink, green, and yellow satin, was brought 
out from its corner in the hotel hall, and the door 
opened. Only one of us could occupy it at a time; 
for it was a contracted little ark, not allowing any 
superfluity in the way of ribbons and flounces. At 
the ends of the stout poles, attached horizontally to 
either side of the sedan-chair, were leathern straps. 
The bearers, one standing before and one behind, 
slipped these over their shoulders, which raised the 
chair about two feet from the ground; then, taking 
the ends of the poles in their hands, they marched 
away with us at a steady gait. Like other vehicles, 
the sedan-chair follows the road; but the men learn 
to dodge in and out among the teams with wonderful 
adroitness. 

Suddenly from our place on the bridge we were 
startled by a cry. In a minute more a dozen 
stalwart Turks came running by with long regu¬ 
lar strides. They wore white knickerbockers and 
loose cotton jackets, and carried between them on 
their shoulders a red ladder heaped with coils of 
rubber hose. The guide said they were firemen. 
Suddenly the crowd separated to let a porter pass. 
“Poor fellow!” we exclaimed pitifully, shocked at 
the enormous burden strapped on his back — sev¬ 
eral heavy dry-goods boxes, a load for a horse. But 


314 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


he was used to it. There are few drays or carts in 
Constantinople, and horses are little used for labor; 
so these men literally take their places. Often we 
have watched them in the hall of the hotel, as they 
tied up their load — a great pile of trunks and satch¬ 
els— slipped it dexterously upon their padded backs, 
and then, bending forward under the weight, walked 
quickly away. When once started, the impetus is 
so great they cannot easily stop or turn out of the 
way, but utter a peculiar cry of warning for people 
to clear the way. We were told that one of these 
men could carry a piano-forte on his back. 

All this time, we were pushed and jostled by the 
hurrying crowds, — people of all races and classes — 
rich and poor, Greeks, Arabs, Turks, and Russians. 
Boys with sherbet to sell screamed in our ears. 
Bright-eyed beggar-children pulled persistently at 
our dresses, or sang weird melodies for a few paras; 
and snarling dogs by the score lay everywhere in 
the path. 

Down on the Bosphorus, all was life and loveli¬ 
ness. Huge iron-clads and white-winged merchant¬ 
men mingled with the graceful little caiques that 
flitted over the silvery waters. Steamers leave 
every hour from the bridge, for trips up the 
Bosphorus,— pretty little crafts, which have a com¬ 
partment below partitioned off for the ladies of the 
harem. The pleasant upper decks are usually filled 


THE GOLDEN HORN. 


315 


with a mixed assemblage of Turks in the national 
fez, lazily smoking their amber-mouthed pipes, 
pompous officials, and European excursionists. At 
some points the water’s edge is lined with fair pal¬ 
aces, whose white marble or richly stuccoed walls 
light up brilliantly in the sun. Other palaces stand 
back on the hill-slopes, their long low facades 
just visible between the groupings of luxuriant 
Southern foliage. One afternoon we wound along 
the banks, stopping at many small villages, very 
picturesque at a distance, but poor and miserable 
near by. A little crowd of people and vehicles gath¬ 
ered about the wharf,—the packmen, with pads* 
strapped to their backs, pushing their way first to the 
steamer to receive or deliver baggage. Back on the 
shore was the village, with its narrow streets and 
queer old houses. Most of them were frame struct¬ 
ures, as gray and time-worn as though they had 
stood for centuries, but relieved here and there by 
touches of color, abundant lattice-work, and over¬ 
hanging balconies. The great number of the win¬ 
dows was remarkable. This is a peculiarity of Con¬ 
stantinople. One lady told us she counted eight in 
a moderate-sized room. 

Six miles up the Bosphorus, on a commanding 
height overlooking the water, stands the famous 
Robert College. Twelve different nationalities are 
represented among the students. On the summit of 


316 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


the bluff is the old stone tower which marks the place 
where Darius crossed with his army into Europe. 

On our way down the hill we passed a plain 
plastered building which contains the library of one 
of the best educated pashas in Turkey. He owns 
over six thousand volumes. A short time before 
our visit, when asked which of all the books in his 
library he valued most, the pasha took down a 
copy of Longfellow’s poems and laid it before his 
questioner. 

We made an excursion on the Golden Horn in a 
caique. This vessel is something like an Indian 
canoe — very long and slender, and easily upset. 
Ours was a gay little craft, painted bright yellow, 
and had crimson cushions. We stepped in cautious¬ 
ly, for the slightest jar is sometimes dangerous. 
The Turkish boatman, in his navy-blue blouse and 
colored turban, lifted the oars, and away we shot like 
an arrow. It was the middle of the afternoon, on 
a charming spring day. We trailed our fingers in 
the tepid water that had scarcely a ripple. Other 
caiques darted past us, and high above our heads 
towered the tall-masted ships that might so easily 
have crushed our frail bark. Cypress-crowned shores, 
gemmed with domes and minarets, overshadowed us 
on the right. We sailed by Stamboul, which reaches 
out like a hand between the Golden Horn and the 
Sea of Marmora. It was Stamboul, with the starry 


THE GOLDEN HORN. 


317 


domes of St. Sophia rising out of the cloud of 
cypresses, that had held us so entranced the morn¬ 
ing we entered the harbor. Scarcely less beautiful 
it seemed now, standing out on the water in bold 
relief—a strange mingling of shadow and sunshine. 

Several miles from the mouth of the Golden 
Horn are the celebrated pleasure-grounds of the 
ease-loving Turks. Friday is the gala-day; and 
in the afternoon, by land and water, men, women 
and children flock here to share in the festivities. 
It is a brilliant show — the mingling of gay colors, 
the flash of the caiques on the waters, the merry 
laughter and songs, gay music, crowded cafes, and 
at last, when the sun sinks low, the gay homeward 
sail. 

Chief among the mosques of Constantinople is 
the peerless St. Sophia. We did not wonder that 
Justinian exclaimed when it was finished, “Solo¬ 
mon, I have excelled thee,” for it is indeed a tri¬ 
umph of art. The great walls are crowned by a 
pinnacle of domes, whose gleaming balls rise majes¬ 
tically above the surrounding cypress-trees. Within 
are many fine marbles and wonderful carvings, so 
exquisitely wrought, and of such delicate tracery, 
one might spend hours in admiring them. But it 
was the vastness of St. Sophia, not its elegance, 
that impressed us most. The best view is from the 
gallery, whence we looked down upon the wide- 


318 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


reaching floor, away to the sweeping galleries, and 
up to the echoing vaults, till we seemed lost in its 
immensity, and could only wonder at the marvellous 
skill that was able to enclose such a space within 
walls and roof it with domes. Around the base of 
the central dome, in gilt mosaic letters, was the 
appropriate inscription from the Koran: u God is 
the light of heaven and earthy This beautiful 
temple was originally built for a Christian church; 
but under Turkish rule it became a Mohammedan 
mosque. 

The sepulchre or turbeh of Sultan Mahmood II. 
contains the tombs of the Sultan and his family. 
The graves are under the floor, but each is marked 
above by a large stone coffin covered with a rich 
black velvet mantle embroidered with silver in 
curious Arabic designs. At the head of the tomb 
of the Sultan is placed the fez and some of the 
scarfs last worn by him. At its side stands a 
solid silver rack, where rests a copy of the Koran, 
written in illuminated letters on parchment; while 
suspended from the wall near by hangs the carpet 
on which the Sultan was wont to kneel at prayer. 

The mosque of Sultan Beyezid has a character of 
its own. There is a story that the Sultan once 
bought from a poor woman two doves, which he 
presented to the mosque. The birds were deemed 
holy, and were not allowed to be killed. From 


THE GOLDEN HORN. 


319 

this pair sprang the flocks of white-winged pension¬ 
ers which now have their abode in the court of the 
mosque, and are as tame as the pigeons in St. 
Mark’s Square in Venice. It was a pretty sight to 
see them feeding from the hands of the native chil¬ 
dren and hopping around their feet. But the 
strangest pensioners of the old mosque are the 
vagrant dogs who gather by the hundred to its court 
each Friday to be fed. They never forget the day, 
and “ resort here as regularly, if not as piously, as 
the Sultan goes to pray.” 

After the first day, mosque-visiting began to 
lose its interest. At first there was a pleasant 
novelty about it. We would wander around the 
marble-paved court, with its fountain in the centre 
for the ablutions of the faithful, and after satisfying 
our curiosity, turn to enter the sanctuary. At the 
door lay a row of red and yellow sandals in the 
charge of a Turk, who took care that no unholy 
foot should pass by him without first being encased 
in the gay morocco. The ladies, if their shoes were 
clean, might slip the sandals on over them ; but as 
the slippers were much too large for us, our only 
way of keeping them in place was to shuffle and 
slide along the floor in a manner not always the 
most graceful. Occasionally, in an unwary mo¬ 
ment, a slipper would escape us and spin across the 
carpet; but, watching our opportunity, we moved 


320 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


quietly along, gazing about as if admiring the deco¬ 
rations, and when near the lost slipper, whisked it 
on, and walked along as innocently as if nothing 
had happened. 

The mosques are carpeted with rugs and sup¬ 
ported by graceful columns, which help to relieve 
the emptiness of the interior. At one side is a 
pulpit, and near by the hibla , a niche in the wall 
toward Mecca, which the Mohammedans face when 
they pray. Not far from this spot is usually a 
row of men, sitting on the floor, busy at their 
prayers. If one w 7 ears a green band around his 
turban, it is a sign he has made the pilgrimage 
to Mecca, and he is regarded with special inter¬ 
est. With their Korans laid open at their feet, they 
rock back and forth — praying in a loud sing-song 
tone, apparently oblivious to all about them. 

One day, at noon, we stopped in the busiest part 
of the city, to listen to the cry of the muezzin, who 
calls the hours of prayer from the gallery of the 
minaret. As soon as his voice is heard, all good 
Musselmans drop on their knees. It was strange 
to see them — shopkeepers, cabmen, traders, and 
pedestrians, leaving everything to pray. The muez¬ 
zin's cry is peculiar, and sometimes very musical. 

The bazaars of Constantinople outrivalled any¬ 
thing we had seen in Cairo or Damascus. They 
made a bright picture — those long arcade-like 


I 


THE GOLDEN HORN. 321 

streets. A stream of yellow light poured in 
through the openings in the roof and fell upon 
the gay commingling of colors below, where the 
Turk, in silken gown, fez, and slippers, sat serene 
in the midst of his merchandise. Some of the 
bazaars opened back into fair-sized shops, and it 
was in these, hidden away on their inner shelves, 
that we looked for the choicest goods. In addition 
to the variety of pretty articles we had found in 
other cities, there were Turkish towels and beauti¬ 
ful Turkish embroidery. Some was wrought on fine 
thin cloth, and some on heavier goods, either in 
squares suitable for the covers of sofa cushions, or 
in the larger sizes for table and piano spreads. 
Many of the fine tissue-like towels were yellow and 
stained with age, but their embroidery was so ex¬ 
quisite they were valued more highly than brighter 
and newer ones. 

Friday is the Mohammedan Sabbath ; and the 

great attraction of the day is to see the Sultan go to 

prayers. Shortly before the hour appointed, we 

took our places among the crowd on the steps of a 

building facing the mosque selected that week as 

the scene of his Majesty’s devotions. The streets in 

every direction were lined with spectators. Armed 

infantry, formed in line on either side of the street, 

guarded the approach for a long distance and crowded 

the people back to the walls. Cavaliers in splendid 
21 


322 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


uniforms galloped up and down the open way. 
The excitement increased every moment. Natives 
as well as foreigners were on the alert for a first 
glimpse of the Sultan. Suddenly a murmur ran 
through the crowd, as two closed carriages from 
the royal harem, drawn by white horses, swept up to 
the door of the mosque and took their stand a little 
to one side. We watched, expecting to see the royal 
beauties alight and pass into the building; but to 
our disappointment they remained in their car¬ 
riages, awaiting the arrival of their lord. We saw 
a flutter of white veiling, and once a child’s face 
appeared at the window. Several more coaches 
rolled by, bearing dignitaries of state. At length a 
troop of glittering cavalry swept down the road, 
followed by the royal equipage, which stopped at 
the entrance of the mosque. The carriage-door 
opened, and the Sultan sprang lightly upon the 
steps. He turned for an instant — a slight, youth¬ 
ful-looking man, dressed in a scarlet uniform — 
saluted the gazing throng, and disappeared within 
the mosque. The Sultan is scarcely more popular 
than the Czar, and would never risk his life, it is 
said, by going to prayers in a mosque did he not 
know that he would be deposed if he refused. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


“ VIOLET-WREATHED ” ATHENS. 

~\T7~E were nearing Athens ! A friend had agreed 
* ’ to waken us in time to see the entry into 
port. At half-past four came the summons, and the 
melancholy words, “It is raining.” A few minutes 
later we climbed sleepily up the gangway, where a 
score of disconsolate faces greeted ours. The cap¬ 
tain had said we were three hours late, and would 
not get in before seven. 

When, at length, we entered the bay of Piraeus, 
the rain had ceased and the clouds were breaking. 
Distinct against the gray background rose the match¬ 
less Parthenon, crowning the Acropolis, the first 
familiar object to welcome us — the last to bid us 
adieu, as, glowing in the sunset rays, we turned a 
lingering glance upon “the isles of Greece.” 

“Eternal summer gilds them yet, 

But all except their sun is set.” 

It is six miles from Piraeus to Athens, and the 
only line of railway in Greece is that which unites 
these two points. We went up in a carriage, and 
returned by the cars. It was a refreshing ride, 
after the sea-voyage, over the clean broad road, 

323 


321 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


shaded by leafy poplars. Reaching the city, we 
dashed through several modern streets and stopped 
before the Hotel d’Angleterre. It was new and 
spacious, and through the open door we caught a 
glimpse of flowers, fountains, and sunny parlors. 
The hotel was crowded, for it was “the season,” 
and tourists were pouring in from every quarter. 
There was the American bride who aped Grecian 
manners, the Scotch student, the immaculate En¬ 
glishman, and the volatile Frenchman. A family of 
Greeks especially attracted us. It consisted of the 
father, mother, two daughters, and a merry little 
boy. The girls were beautiful, with glossy hair, 
sparkling black eyes, and colorless but clear com¬ 
plexions. Graceful, full of animation, they rattled 
off modern Greek in short crisp sentences, inter¬ 
spersed with ringing laughter. 

The aristocratic Greek of to-day has the spirit of 
his forefathers. He is proud and dignified. Does 
Tie think the golden age of Attica has departed 
forever? Ho, indeed! The glory has faded — but 
only to rise again with more resplendent beauty. 
For this he lives and works. 

A friend went into a photographer’s to buy some 
pictures. 

“Your king is a Dane,” she remarked to the 
dealer. 

“ A r es.” 


“ VIOLET-WREATHED ” ATHENS. 


325 


“How does it happen that you allow a foreign 
prince to occupy the throne ? ” 

“Madam,” said the man, drawing himself up 
and speaking with solemn emphasis, “are you 
aware from whom King George is descended2” 
“Ho.” 

‘ 4 From Agamemnon! ” 

Modern Athens is handsomely built. There are 
many fine streets, well-paved and lined with shade- 
trees, rows of white stone buildings, good stores 
and hotels. The main avenues are the Hermes and 
Hlolus, which run at right angles to each other. 
Even the smaller streets are a striking contrast to 
the narrow and crooked by-ways in the far East. 
The bazaars are of little consequence. The chief 
articles for sale are red morocco or Russian leather 
slippers and Greek caps — the latter somewhat re¬ 
sembling the fez, only they are softer and fur¬ 
nished with a tassel. For ladies, the cap has a long 
silken braid, and a golden tassel that hangs down 
over the right shoulder. I saw one on a pretty 
Greek girl. The red cap was set a little back on 
the head, against strands of dark hair combed in a 
low Grecian coil. The effect was most charming. 

One of the finest buildings in Athens is the new 
Academy. It was built through the liberality of a 
wealthy Greek. The walls are of the pure Pen- 
telican marble, and the style of architecture is 


326 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


copied after the ancient. Just in front of our hotel 
was the great public square. Sunday and Thursday 
afternoons, when the band played here, it swarmed 
with gay promenaders. The Albanian costume, 
though not commonly worn now, is very striking. 
It consists of long white stockings fastened above 
the knees, red slippers turned up at the toes and 
ending in a tuft of colored worsted or silk, a short 
white cotton skirt or fustanella plaited so full that 
it is said to contain forty yards of cloth, a well- 
starched shirt, an embroidered velvet jacket, and a 
jaunty cap. Sometimes a leathern girdle is worn, 
and a pouch in front for a knife and other articles. 

From our window we looked out on the Hymet- 
tus range of long blue hills, whence came the 
honey celebrated by Horace. On the left towered 
Lycabettus, steep and bold, with a tiny chapel 
on its very peak, its lamp twinkling in the night 
like a far-away star; and at the right, but for 
the intervening shrubbery we could have seen the 
quiet waters of the Saronic gulf. 

Across the square from our hotel was the royal 
palace, built of white marble, but simple and una¬ 
dorned, and surrounded by the palace gardens. 
One afternoon we visited the palace, and found it as 
plain inside as it is outside. We then waited in the 
park for the return of the royal family from their 
afternoon drive. Two guards stood by the roadside. 


VIOLET-WREATHED ” ATHENS. 


< i 


rr2 


Suddenly they gave the signal. The buglers in their 
gay fustanellas began to blow, the Greek flag was 
raised, and the king drove in. There was a flash of 
a gilt uniform as the equipage passed us and was 
gone. Again the bugle sounded, and a carriage 
swept by with a baby and its two nurses. A few 
minutes later came another carriage, with two little 
girls ; and lastly came the queen, dressed in a simple 
suit of brown, with little to distinguish her from her 
ladies. Soon after, the three young princes walked 
by with their tutor, the eldest a manly-looking boy 
of about fifteen. The queen is a Russian, and 
brings up her children according to the stern Rus¬ 
sian discipline. A lady who had visited the boys’ 
private apartments, said they had bare floors, and 
were furnished in the simplest manner with plain 
chintz curtains and bed-hangings. It is well known 
that the king is not popular. The people were much 
disappointed at his course in regard to the northern 
provinces. Soon after the Congress of Berlin he 
appeared in Parliament. The queen, knowing the 
displeasure of the Greeks, sat weeping in the 
gallery. A messenger announced the arrival of 
the king. The assembly rose to their feet as he 
entered. Not a cheer was raised — not a greeting 
given. The king ascended the platform, spoke a 
few hurried words, and retired in chagrin. 

But the glory of Athens is her splendid ruins. 


328 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


A short walk from our hotel brought us to the 
square of the Olympieum, once covered by the 
stately temple. Only sixteen noble columns are left 
to mark the site. The music and parade, the fine 
streets and modern buildings, were all forgotten, and 
we lived in the mystic past. Not far from the 
Olympieum is the Stadium — the ancient playground 
of the Greeks. The seats in the amphitheatre are 
almost hidden under the grass, but we could see the 
marble peeping out from beneath it. Several merry 
boys were romping together on the pavement. 

Turning to the Acropolis, we wound around the 
Theatre of Dionysus, with its sculptured rostrum 
and circle of marble chairs where the priests used to 
sit, each with his own name carved on the base, and 
then toiled up the steep ascent to the walls shutting 
in the Parthenon. The guardian swung open the 
gate. We hurried up the great staircase of the Pro- 
pylsea, passed under the archway, and stood upon 
the broad sunlit brow of the Acropolis. Around us 
lay ruin and desolation. To the left was the Erech- 
theum — to the right, on the very summit, the Par¬ 
thenon, queenly and beautiful. How still it was 
there — how soft the breezes blew! We wandered 
over the marble-strewn ground, up the steps and 
over the floor of the Parthenon, touched the yellow 
Pentelican marble reverently, measured the circum¬ 
ference of the tall columns with outstretched arms, 


“ VIOLET-WREATHED '” ATHENS. 


329 


and, wearied at last, fell down on tlie grass and 
trimmed our hats with the sweet wild flowers smil¬ 
ing among the ruins. 

On a neighboring height is the Pnyx, or assem¬ 
bly ground of the old Greeks. We saw the ancient 
bema , approached by steps on each side, where 
Demosthenes so often moved the Athenian popu¬ 
lace with his eloquence. In the side of Mount 
Philopappus are three small chambers cut out 
of the solid rock, said to have been the prison of 
Socrates. 

One Sunday afternoon we stood on Mars Hill, 
which commands a fine view of the Tlieseum and the 
green valley that sweeps from its feet away past the 
white houses of modern Athens to Hymettus. A 
few rough-hewn steps in the rock lead to the highest 
point. On this very spot stood St. Paul when he 
preached to the pleasure-loving Athenians, while 
all around them shone the white walls of their fair 
temples —shrines to u the unknown God.” 

From the summit of the Acropolis we looked 
across to the bay of Salamis. Along the road 
that winds like a silver thread on its way to Eleu- 
sis, marched the procession of worshippers in the 
Eleusinian mysteries. Eleusis is a lovely place. 
The bay curves gently around the white-sanded 
shores, and out into the water extends an old half- 
sunken pier. 


330 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


In Eleusis are the ruins of the temple of Ceres* 
the goddess of harvest, with sheaves of ripened 
grains and fruits sculptured on its marbles. Out in 
the bay lies the fair isle of Salamis, immortalized by 
the fierce conflict between the Greeks and Persians. 
On the spur of the mainland sat Xerxes on his 
throne, watching the issue of the battle. 

One day we rode to Mount Pentelicus, passing 
on the way a low white house covering the site of 
Socrates’ birthplace. At the foot of the mountain 
we took donkeys and rode to the summit. From 
the Pentelic quarries came most of the marble that 
built the Athenian temples. We passed a freshly- 
hewn block, pure and white, just ready for the 
sculptor’s chisel. When at last we readied the 
brow of the mountain, all Attica lay at our feet. 
Our eyes turned at once to the east, where 

“The mountains look on Marathon, 

And Marathon looks on the sea. ” 

The hills overshadow this famous battle-field on 
one side, while the sea shuts it in on the other, but 
the plain itself is broad and level. 

Not far from the centre of Athens, on University 
street, is a fine white-walled mansion. It is rec¬ 
tangular in form, with a terraced roof, adorned 
along its outer edge with marble statues of the Greek 
gods and goddesses. On the front wall is this in¬ 
scription in large Greek letters : ‘ ‘ lliou Melathron, ” 


VIOLET- WEE A TIIEE ” A TIIENS. 


331 


* i 


— “The Yilla of Ilium.” Here lives Dr. Schlie- 
mann, the discoverer of Ancient Troy. One after¬ 
noon we stood before the gate, and lifted the heavy 
brazen knocker. The gate swung open, and we 
passed through the garden to the main entrance. 

“Can we see Dr. Schliemann?” we asked the 
servant. 

“ He is not at home.” 

“ And Mrs. Schliemann ? ” 

u She is away too. Hone of the family are here, 
but you can look through the house if you wish.” 

We followed the man down the inner staircase to 
the basement, where a suite of rooms had been fitted 
up as a museum. It contained an interesting collec¬ 
tion of relics in terra-cotta, the debris of the Troy 
discoveries, most of which Dr. Schliemann had pre¬ 
sented to Berlin. Ascending the wide marble stair¬ 
cases, we reached the drawing-room on the second 
floor. Like all the rooms in the villa, it was fur¬ 
nished and decorated in the Pompeian style. The 
ceiling was gaily painted with pictures taken from 
scenes in mythology. In the centre of each of the 
four walls covered with maroon-colored paper was a 
graceful female figure poised in the air, veiled in 
light drapery and wreathed with roses. In the next 
room the floor was inlaid with mosaic in antique 
designs, and two of the opposite walls were orna¬ 
mented with inscriptions in illuminated letters — 


332 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


one a favorite selection from the Iliad, and the 
other from the Odyssey. We passed through a suite 
of beautiful rooms, each one a study in itself. But 
in spite of the rich and varied ornamentation, the 
furnishings seemed meagre according to American 
ideas of comfort, and the villa had more the appear¬ 
ance of a beautiful museum of art than a home. The 
Greek servant who showed us through the house 
answered to the high-sounding name of Aristo¬ 
phanes. It is said Dr. Schliemann has a mania for 
naming all the attaches of his household after the 
ancient Greeks. An amusing story is told of an 
English governess once employed in the family, 
“who objected to being ‘called out of her name,’ 
and begged that she might be spared the mortifica¬ 
tion of answering to a heathenish appellation; but 
the Doctor was inexorable. If he could not get a 
Greek to teach his children English, at least she 
should be Greek in name.” 

At last we entered Dr. Schliemann’s library. This 
was very large and especially airy and cheerful, with 
long windows letting in the sunlight, and a contin¬ 
uous row of open bookcases lining the walls. There 
were easy chairs, and a generous writing-table strewn 
with a disordered collection of books, papers, and 
writing materials. After a moment or two the door 
opened and a lady entered. It was Mrs. Schlie¬ 
mann, a sweet, kindly-faced woman, of about thirty- 


“ VIOLET-WREATHED” ATHENS. 


333 


five, with brown eyes, dark hair, and a fresh, rosy 
complexion. 

“ Please excuse us,” we began, “but the ser¬ 
vant-” 

“I am pleased to see you,” she interrupted, with 
a pretty Greek accent, and coming forward to take 
our hands. “Do be seated. I am very happy to 
meet anyone who is interested in my husband and 
his work.” 

Then she told us how she had just returned from 
the country, where she had spent the day with her 
children, assisting in the excavations. 

“Do you find many relics? ” we asked. 

“Oh, yes; a great many—sometimes real treas¬ 
ures.” 

“You must enjoy it.” 

“ It is our life. We live in another world — the 
world of the past; and the present has little attrac¬ 
tion for us. Every book we read, every excursion 
we make, has reference to it; all our conversation, 
hopes, and ambitions, centre in it.” 

“You must have read Homer many times.” 

“Yes indeed. I have committed the Iliad to 
memory, though I knew parts of it before I was 
married. My little girl of eleven is reading the 
Odyssey and Iliad, and already knows them nearly 
by heart.” 

“ How many children have you ? ” 



334 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


“Only two; my husband named them Androm¬ 
ache and Agamemnon,” adding, with a little laugh, 
“he thought he had a right to the names.” 

“Do you call them by these names?” 

“Oh, yes; they are long, but my husband makes 
them still longer by adding to each a term of en¬ 
dearment, meaning ‘little.’ I think my little boy 
is at home; I will call him.” 

In a few minutes a servant came in, leading a 
beautiful child of five, with blue eyes and golden 
ringlets, and dressed in a pretty little sailor suit. 

“What is your name?” we asked, just to hear 
the baby lips repeat “Agamemnon Scliliemann.” 
The little fellow was unusually bright and attractive. 
He did not seem at all timid, but chatted gayly with 
us, emphasizing his words with enthusiastic ges¬ 
tures. Besides speaking English as well as most 
children of his age, he could talk equally well in 
French, German, and modern Greek. After a few 
minutes he slipped away to the table where a copy of 
his father’s “Mycenae” lay open, and began turn¬ 
ing the leaves. He came to a picture of the Acrop¬ 
olis. 

“What is that, Agamemnon?” asked his mother. 
“You know, for you have often been there.” 

He studied the book a moment intently, and then 
looked up wdtli a bright smile. 

“Oh yes, it’s where the sweet flowers grow.” 


VIOLET-WREATHED ” ATHENS . 


335 


< * 


Mrs. Schliemann took us up to the terrace, where 
■she said they sat on pleasant evenings, and showed 
us the lovely views. The Acropolis, “ with its relics 
of a separated glory,” stood out boldly in the fore¬ 
ground, while far in the distance were the snowy 
heights of Mount Parnassus. On the side of the 
terrace overlooking the sea ran the inscription in 
Greek: “ How pleasant it is that the sea may be 
seen from the land.” As we were about leaving, 
Dr. Schliemann himself came in. He entered with 
a firm, brisk step — a man of the German type, of 
medium height and stoutly built. His head was 
bent forward; his eye was bright and piercing, and 
his whole appearance was that of a student. After a 
pleasant greeting, in which he expressed regret that 
he had not more time to give us, he turned to his 
wife. 

“I must go to Troy to-morrow.” 

“ What, again ?” she said, in a tone of disappoint¬ 
ment. “I thought you had quite finished there.” 

“ Yes, but I have just received an order from the 
government to accompany a commission there to 
assist in taking measurements for a plan of the city. 
I am sorry to take the time.” 

After Dr. Schliemann had left us, Miss S. re¬ 
marked to Mrs. Schliemann : 

“Your husband has been greatly honored.” 

“Yes,” she answered, with a touch of pride. 


336 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


“All countries have been very kind to him. He 
would like to have given his Troy collection to 
America; but Germany was his fatherland, and he 
felt he must present it to Berlin. The municipality 
made him an ‘Honorary Citizen.’ He hardly knew 
how to accept the honor; Bismarck and Moltke are 
the only others who ever received it.” 

“Hoes it not make you sad to see these great 
Grecian temples in ruins ? ” 

“Ah yes, but you know it is only for a time. 
Athens will be great again; the glory of Pericles 
will return, and I expect to live to see it.” 

We took our leave, wondering at the beautiful 
faith which had been the source of so much enthu¬ 
siasm and happy toil. 

A few days later, we sailed from Athens. From 
the steamer’s deck we searched the blue shores 
of Greece for the little hamlet of Missolonghi, 
where Byron breathed his last. We cruised in 
sight of the bay immortalized by the tragedy of 
Hon Juan, and the isle of Ithaca on whose shores 
Ulysses landed when returning home to Penelope 
after the long separation of twenty years. The last 
of April we reached Trieste. Here our party sepa¬ 
rated. Our eastern trip was ended — we had stepped 
out of the Old World into the New. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 


PARIS UNDER SUMMER SKIES. 

~T~^)ARIS is radiant in May and June. The chill 
rainy winter is past; the skies are smiling; 
the long avenues of chestnut trees are in leaf, and 
the parks and gardens are wildernesses of bloom. 
The flower-market at the Madeleine is such a pict¬ 
ure— no wonder so many artists have tried to paint 
it. Light canvas booths are placed all around the 
square, and the flowers are arranged artistically in 
fancy pots and clean white wrapping-paper, while 
behind each counter sits a little old woman, in trim 
calico and frilled cap, chatting busily with her cus¬ 
tomers. 

One Saturday morning we rose at dawn, and 
visited the great Paris market at the Halles Cen¬ 
trales. It was worth seeing — the country folks, 
the men in blue blouses, the women in white caps 
and short petticoats ; and the fresh country produce. 
There were bunches of pansies, big enough to fill 
our two hands, for five cents ; and the loveliest wild 
flowers — poppies, corn-flowers, grasses,—and such 
roses ! The varieties of fish were especially notice¬ 
able. The smaller ones were kept fresh in marble 

22 337 


338 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


tanks of running water, and dozens of great lobsters 
lay on the ground just ready to nip at our toes with 
their outstretched claws. At six o’clock the auction 
began, and then the excitement reached its height. 
The screams were deafening, but the stands were 
cleared like magic and in half an hour we would 
hardly have known it was the same place. 

The city wears such a clean, fresh look — like 
the weather — with its white sidewalks, glistening 
white stone buildings, and streets that are daily 
swept and garnished with mop, broom, and hose. 
At nine in the evening the rag-pickers begin their 
rounds, carrying away all the waste scraps of paper, 
skins, and other refuse strewn about. The stores 
are very attractive, from the butcher’s shop, w T ith its 
rows of joints, hung with fancy papers and festoons 
of flowers, to the windows of the draper and jeweller 
on the boulevards. Such treasures as are spread out 
behind these great sheets of plate-glass ! In speak¬ 
ing of stores, we must not omit to mention the u Au 
Bon Marche ” and the “Grands Magasins du 
louvre .” These mammoth magasins , as they are 
called, are friendly rivals, and it would be hard to 
tell which is the more popular. Everyone knows 
them, even people who have never heard of the 
Louvre picture-gallery or of Notre-Dame; or, per¬ 
haps I should rather say, every woman knows them 
— for they are the bugbear of the other sex. Once 


PARIS UNDER SUMMER SKIES. 


339 


inveigled into the trap by wife or daughter, there is 
no escape. The poor man is dragged to and fro for 
weary hours, till his patience and pockets are both 
exhausted, and the place ever after haunts him as a 
chamber of horrors. Twice a year, when these 
establishments indulge in a great “clearing” sale, 
they are crowded to overflowing. Then is the 
time to get good bargains, but it takes a sharp- 
witted person to do it. Unlike the London stores, 
everything here is spread out to the gaze; and the 
effect of festoons of ribbons, laces, gloves, flowers, 
and countless pretty trifles, filling the aisles and 
heaping the counters, is perfectly dazzling. 

One day while shopping in the Bon Marche, a 
package of gloves slipped from my hands to the 
floor, and was lost under the feet of the crowd. The 
next day I inquired for it at the desk where such 
articles are taken when found; but nothing had been 
seen of it. The gentleman in charge was very 
obliging, and left his work to go with me to several 
counters in different parts of the store where the 
package might have been carried. Failing to find 
it, he took my name and address; and a few days 
later, I received a note from one of the firm, express¬ 
ing regret that nothing had been seen of the gloves, 
and adding, “ Though it very rarely occurs, I fear in 
this case the package has been stolen.” 

The Bon Marche is one of the largest establish- 


340 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE . 


ments of its kind in the world, and has no branch. 
It is conducted on the cooperative principle; and its 
clerks, having a share in the stock, are personally 
interested in its prosperity. There is a handsome 
reading-room, adorned with pictures and statuary, 
the work of the employees, and exposed there for 
sale. Another feature is a buffet , where wine and 
cake may be had free, though one is expected to 
drop a few centimes into the box for the poor. At 
three o’clock every afternoon visitors are shown 
through the entire building — the warehouse, the 
store and packing-rooms, the great dormitories, the 
kitchen and dining-rooms, and, not the least in 
interest, even the stables. 

At this season, tourists were flocking by the thou¬ 
sand into Paris, and the dress-makers were reaping 
a golden harvest. Even “Worth’s ” had more than 
its usual brisk business-like air. Boys in blue 
jackets and brass buttons hurried hither and thither, 
and smiling lady clerks, in silks and satins, svrept 
noiselessly over the waxed floors in their flowing 
trains. One day we were shown into the robe 
department, and left to choose. My wishes being 
modest, I pointed to an olive silk trimmed with 
brocade. In a twinkling it was whisked down, 
turned on one side and then the other. 

“Yes, it is charming — something quite new, and 


PARIS UNDER SUMMER SKIES. 


341 


so cheap — only four hundred dollars. Shall I take 
your order at once, Mademoiselle?” 

The out-door life of Paris is enticing. The end¬ 
less parks and gardens are the paradises of the chil¬ 
dren, and there is no prettier sight than these noisy 
troops of dark-eyed little folks, gambolling among 
the trees and flowers. French mammas know what 
is stylish, and each small mischief was dressed like 
a wax doll. Our favorite resort was the Bois de 
Boulogne. Art and nature have combined to make 
this one of the loveliest parks in the world. Drives, 
lakes, lawns and flower-beds are laid out and kept 
with scrupulous care; but in the woods beyond, all 
is left wild and rural. There we used to wander by 
the hour, scenting the sweet underbrush, watching 
the gay little songsters as they flitted through the 
network of interlacing boughs over our heads, and 
feeling as much apart from the busy city around us 
as if we were miles distant. One of the pleasantest 
features of the park was a miniature tramway line. 
It had little cars, little ponies, and little boys for 
drivers, whose blue uniforms were exact counterparts 
of those worn by the employes on the city tramway. 

The Bois de Boulogne is gay at all times, but 
especially so on Saturday afternoons. On that day 
wedding-parties by the dozen may be seen promenad¬ 
ing up and down its shaded avenues. The newly- 
married couple lead the way, the bride in all her wed- 


342 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


ding finery — white dress, veil and slippers, while 
around them cluster their friends, chatting merrily. 
In sad contrast with these gay parties is the child’s 
funeral procession, so often seen passing along the 
busy streets. Four men in front are carrying be¬ 
tween them a black bier, with a little white coffin 
resting upon it. After it follow the mourners, with 
downcast heads. Every hat is respectfully raised as 
the silent group passes; for not even a Paris cab- 
driver would be so rude as to omit this simple token 
of reverence for the dead. Paris funerals are 
gloomy pageants. Except on the death of a child 
or a maiden, when the horses and hearse and trap¬ 
pings are pure white, all is in deep black. Before 
the church doors, where the dead is to pass, are 
draped black velvet curtains, with skull and cross- 
bones embroidered in white. One afternoon, on 
entering the Madeleine, we were startled to see a 
coffin in front of the altar, surrounded by lighted 
candles, and priests murmuring prayers before a cru¬ 
cifix; while in another part of the church a marriage 
ceremony was being conducted, and in still another 
corner, the rite of baptism. All three ceremonies 
were quite independent of each other, though the 
voices of the priests mingled in a confusing under¬ 
tone. 

Now that the weather was pleasant, Sunday was 
a merrier holiday than ever. 


PARIS UNDER SUMMER SKIES. 


343 


u Of course you will go to the great horse-race 
to-morrow,” said a French lady, one Saturday. 

“No, madame.” 

“ Oh, you must! You will see the elite of Paris. 
Ladies have been preparing their costumes for 
weeks.” 

u We do not make a holiday of Sunday in Amer¬ 
ica.” 

“But Americans do when they come to Paris,” 
was the quick retort. 

After a visit to the cemeteries, one is ready to 
descend to the catacombs. The entrance is from a 
court near the Place Denfert Rochereau. At the 
appointed hour we were on the spot, with a hun¬ 
dred or more others,— for it is only once a month 
that the catacombs are shown to visitors. A small 
door was opened, we formed in line, and one by 
one, each carrying a lighted candle, we disappeared 
into the darkness. Down the dark spiral stairway 
of one hundred and thirty steps, we felt our way 
into a dimly-lighted corridor. Following the guide, 
we groped through passage after passage of these 
subterranean caverns. They are very different from 
the catacombs in Rome. These are dug out of the 
solid limestone, which is so soft it can be cut with a 
saw, yet is much used for building, as it hardens 
when exposed to the air. The passages are com¬ 
fortably high and broad, with smooth walls and 


344 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


ceiling. They correspond in direction, though not 
in width, with the avenues just overhead, and take 
the same names. But what are these glistening 
heaps adorning the walls ? Human bones and skulls, 
in countless multitude, piled up in symmetrical 
shape — in the way, one gentleman remarked, he 
used to arrange his father’s wood-pile when a boy. 
Except in the cemetery Pere-Lacliaise, where a large 
sum of money is paid for the privilege of interment, 
bodies are allowed to remain buried for only a cer¬ 
tain period of years. Then the bones are exhumed, 
shovelled indiscriminately into a cart, and thrown 
into the catacombs, where we now see them. On 
the forehead of some of the skulls was pasted a little 
photograph, or a name scratched on a bit of paper, 
showing that some vigilant friend had tried to keep 
distinct the relics of his loved one. Such is the 
mission of the Paris catacombs—a tomb for the 
dead. 

Last and best of our good times in the beautiful 
city was a little episode that to us was the crown of all. 
Hot far from the Arc de Triomphe is Victor Hugo 
street — a short pleasant avenue, shaded with chest¬ 
nut trees. If you go to Humber Fifty, you will see 
a neat stone-front dwelling, modest and home-like. 
There lives the poet for whom the street is named. 
How we longed to catch a glimpse of his face ! But 
was it possible? Yes, he had liis reception-nights, 


PARIS UNDER SUMMER SKIES. 


345 


they told us. But we could not wait — we must leave 
Paris the next day. Should we go without seeing 
him ? Oh, never; we would call that very evening 
— perhaps he would admit us. So we quietly hur¬ 
ried from the house — for Madame must not know 
our secret—she would raise her hands in horror at 
such a venture. We hailed a cab, and jumped in. 
u Number fifty, Victor Hugo street! ” 

The driver nodded assent, and away we drove. 
“ Stop! have we any money?” and L. looked at 
me aghast. We emptied the contents of our pocket- 
books, only to find that in our hurry we had for¬ 
gotten to replenish them. There was enough to pay 
the cabman, but not enough for the ride home. 
‘‘Suppose we take an omnibus ! ” 

“What if it should be after dark? But we will 
do it — it is to see Victor Hugo.” 

The carriage stopped at the door. We rang the 
bell, and a brisk maid answered it. 

“Can we see Victor Hugo? We know it is not 
his reception-night — but we must leave the city to¬ 
morrow.” 

u Oui — I suppose you can,” she replied hesi¬ 
tatingly, and swung open the door of the salon. 

Shadows of gay Turkish portieres and rugs, 
crimson satin furniture, and a dozen ladies and 
gentlemen talking quietly in the room, passed before 
us; but just at that instant, our eyes fell on Victor 


346 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


Hugo himself, and we forgot all else. He was 
seated on the sofa, his head thrown back and his 
eyes closed. His hands were folded on his lap, and 
his face, under its crown of snowy hair, wore a 
sweet though wearied expression. 

“ May I know your errand, please ? ” said a voice 
at our side. 

We started — for in our rapt study of the great 
poet we had almost forgotten the presence of any 
one else. 

“It is to see Victor Hugo,” we managed to 
stammer — for the first time realizing we were 
intruders, and scarcely knowing how to explain. 

“But Monsieur Hugo does not receive visitors 
to-night. Have you a card of invitation from him ? ” 

“Ho, but we are just leaving Paris, and this was 
our only time to come. We learned to admire 
Victor Hugo in America, and wanted so much to 
see him before going home.” 

Our eager pleading touched Monsieur. His 
manner had been distant, but now it changed to the 
kindliest. 

“I will ask Monsieur Hugo if he can speak to 
you. He is not very well to-night.” 

Going forward, he bent low over the white head 
reclining on the sofa, and asked in a distinct tone : 

“ Are you able to greet two ladies who have come 
a long way to see you ? ” 


PARIS UNDER SUMMER SKIES. 


347 


The poet nodded assent, Monsieur came back, 
gave us each an arm, and led us forward. 

Victor Hugo arose. He was a medium-sized 
feeble old man, but erect and keen. He fixed his 
kindly eyes upon us. 

“ Monsieur Hugo — Mademoiselles P. and H., 
from America.” 

Victor Hugo bowed gravely. Then, taking in 
turn our right hands in his, with a courtly grace he 
raised them to His lips and kissed them. We tried to 
thank him — to explain why we were there ; but in 
the excitement our French was rather broken. 

“I have always loved your poems,” I exclaimed 
eagerly. 

He bowed again saying: “ Merci! merci /” Tak¬ 
ing our hands in his, he pressed them a second time 
to his lips; then sank back on the sofa and closed 
his eyes. 

A pleasant-faced lady turned to us. 

“We fear we have wearied Monsieur Hugo. We 
are so sorry!”—and we looked anxiously in her 
face. 

“Oh no; he was glad to see you. He seems 
more tired than usual to-night. He is growing 
feeble ; we fear he cannot live long.” 

“ How he will be missed. Victor Hugo is known 
everywhere.” 


348 


WE TWO ALONE IN EUROPE. 


“Yes,” slie replied enthusiastically. He is the 
poet-laureate of the world.” 

u We have some photographs of the poet; would 
it be too much, do you think — sometime when he 
is not too tired, — for him to write his autograph on 
them ? ” 

“No, give them to me; I will see that it is done, 
and send them to you;” and she kindly took them 
from our hands. 

One more lingering look at the peaceful face on 
the sofa — then we slipped quietly out of the room. 
The maid opened the outer-door. 

“You have been presented to Monsieur Hugo ? 
I am glad ; ” and she courtesied us out to the street. 

Half-an-hour after, we were home again, poring 
over Les Miserables , and trying to realize that our 
eyes had seen and our hands had touched its illus¬ 
trious author. 

A few days later, we stood once more on the 
shores of our native land, with the ocean rolling 
between us and the continent we had just left. But 
neither time nor distance could rob us of the legacy 
of bright memories that crowned our happy two 
years in the Old World. 


"THE STANDARD OPERAS. Their Plots, 

their Music, and their Composers. By George P. 
Upton. 


i2mo, 371 
gilt edges, $2.00. 


pages, yellow edges, $1.50; extra gilt, 


In half calf, gilt top.$3 25 

In half morocco, gilt top, . . . 3 50 

In half morocco, gilt edges, . . .375 


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“Mr. Upton has performed a service that can hardly be too 
highly appreciated, in collecting the plots, music and the 
composers of the standard operas, to the number of sixty-four, 
and bringing them together in one perfectly arranged volume. 
. . . His work is one simply invaluable to the general reading 
public. Technicalities are avoided, the aim being to give to 
musically uneducated lovers of the opera a clear understanding 
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music -”—The Boston Traveller. 

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kind of knowledge which Mr. Upton has collected for their 
benefit, and has cast in a clear and compact form.”— R. H. 
Stoddard , in “ The Evening Mail and Express ” (New York). 


Sold by all booksellers , or mailed , post-paid, on receipt of 
price , by 


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Cor. Wabash Ave. and Madison St., Chicago. 




New Edition, re-written and greatly enlarged . 


WOMAN IN MUSIC. 

By George P. Upton, Author of “The Standard Operas,” etc. 
i6mo, 222 pages. Price, $1.00. 

“Woman in Music,” by George P. Upton, the author of 
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the much vexed question why so few women have been gifted with 
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In the second part, the influence of woman in inspiring the 
highest musical composition is shown in a series of short biograph¬ 
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This part of the work is specially interesting and valuable, as it 
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THE SURGEON’S STORIES. 

ByZ . Topelius, Professor of History, University of Finland. Trans¬ 
lated from the original Swedish, compiising— 

Times of Gustaf Adolf. 

Times of Battle and Rest. 

Times of Charles XII. 

Times of Frededick I. 

Times of Linnaeus. 

Times of Alchemy. 


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CHICAGO. 




TALES FROM FOREIGN TONGUES 


COMPRISING 

Memories : 

A STORY OF GERMAN LOVE. By MAX MULLER. 

Graz i ella : 

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Marie: 

A STORY OF RUSSIAN LOVE. By ALEX. PUSHKIN. 

Madeleine : 

A STORY OF FRENCH LOVE. By JULES SANDEAU. 


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